Adjustments
by simplyobsessed09
Summary: A meeting with Ms. Pillsbury leaves classmates Santana and Brittany roommates in New York come fall. The only problem is they barely know each other and Santana doesn't take well to new people.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I own nothing

A/N: This is my first go at writing anything in a very long time but it's summer so I thought I'd give it a shot. The M rating is mainly for language in the first few chapters but that will change as things progress. This is also unbeta'd so any and all mistakes are my own.

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**Prologue**

"Thank fucking God," I whisper under my breath to my best friend Quinn as Mr. Schuester writes goodbye across the white board in obnoxiously large letters.

She nudges my side, trying to get my to shut up, but I know she's just as relieved as I am. Watching the teacher scribble a new word across that board is something we've had to watch week after week since joining the band of singing losers three years ago and I'm sure we're both ready to move on from it.

I know I am.

"Santana, Quinn. Is there something you'd like to share with the group?" the teacher asks, the words falling out of his mouth so simply it's like a second nature to him. What? This class can get pretty boring.

"Sorry, Mr. Schue. It won't happen again," Quinn apologizes. Even with the year coming to a close, Quinn still has this insane need to have every teacher's approval. Bitch always makes me look bad.

"Yeah, sorry," I mumble under my breath.

Senior year at McKinley is coming to a close, with less than a month left of classes before I can be done with this place for good. After another crushing loss at regionals, undoubtedly due to Mr. Schue's terrible organization and planning skills, he's decided to cut the year short so us seniors could have some extra time to study.

"Mr. Schue, I have some ideas I would like to run my you," an enthusiastic voice from the front row beams and I instinctively let out a loud groan.

Rachel Berry. Glee club captain. Biggest slushie target in all of McKinley High history. Loudest and most annoying person alive despite being barely 5 ft tall. Those are just a few of the nicer words I would use to describe her. Thank god this is the last week I'll ever have to deal with her in such close proximity.

In terms of the McKinley High cast system, high school is a pretty simple thing to explain. The jocks, the cheerleaders, and the rich kids are at the top of the social ladder with the band nerds and mathletes at the bottom. Being co-captain of the nationally ranked cheerleading team, the Cheerios, one would assume I've had the ideal high school experience and I suppose, to an extent, they would be right.

High school has been good to me, as good as anything from this awkward in between period of our lives can be considered. Along with Quinn, I run this school. Since freshman year, when we first walked through those doors, sporting red and white cheerleading uniforms, people knew our standing and we didn't even have to earn their respect, the outfit demanded it. While others were forced to sit through high school initiations and daily slushie facials, Quinn and I were treated like royalty. No one dared to fuck with us.

That unearned respect turned out to be extremely useful the following year when Quinn had the brilliant idea that we should join glee club, the least popular club in the entire school, in an attempt to get her ex-boyfriend, Finn, back from the hobbit. The plan didn't work out but even after their relationship ended for the final time, we still remained part of the club.

Despite my initial hatred towards the club, I admittedly found myself enjoying it as the weeks past. Singing is something I've always loved to do, usually not in public, but I love it nonetheless. The people aren't even as bad as I thought. Though I wouldn't exactly call them friends, Aretha is pretty kick ass and Porcelain has quite a sense of humor once you get to know him.

"If I could have your attention for just one moment," Rachel announces from the front of the room. "We will each be given the chance to sing a solo this week, considering very well may be the last chance for many of you to sing in front of an audience. I, on the other hand, have been accepted into the New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts where…"

Then Rachel Berry comes along, making me realize just how happy I am to finally be done with this club. After three years of dealing with her, I've finally mastered the art of tuning her out completely. A skill that's come much too late, but still appreciated.

There is one other person in the club who tends to get on my nerves. Brittany Pierce. Blonde, dancer, and Rachel's best friend. Just as Rachel had a strike against her because she was the reason I was forced to join the club, Brittany's strike was due to her friendship with Rachel. To be honest, I'm not sure if I even really know her enough to hate her, maybe it's hate by association. All I know is that there is seldom a day when I have to listen to the two of them that I don't want to kill myself.

There is also the fact that she's a flaming lesbian and never lets anyone forget that fact. It all came to face a few years back when some our school's resident stalker and pervert caught her and another girl making out at the movies and posted it on his blog. By 9am the next morning, the entire student body had heard the news. The other girl was so embarrassed, she transferred schools leaving Brittany to face the music herself.

It's not that I'm homophobic or anything, that's not why she annoys me. It's the fact that I should haven't have to change my route to class so I don't have to watch her making out with someone, or being all over them. Whether it's a friend or girlfriend or whatever else, Brittany doesn't seem able to grasp the simple concept that not everyone wants to see that kind of stuff. It's uncomfortable.

…

During this final month, all seniors have been signed up for mandatory sessions with Ms. Pillsbury, the school guidance councilor. I don't really understand what they were trying to accomplish with the end of the year so close. Everyone who wants to get out of this cow town has already applied to schools and, for those who don't, the Lima Bean is always looking for new faces to serve coffee to high schoolers.

Opening the door to Ms. Pillsbury's office, I plop down in front on the redhead and stare at her expectantly. Be as cooperative as possible so I can get the hell out of her office before the fumes from the cleaning supplies gets to my head is my only goal.

"So, Santana," she starts in her squeaky voice that I can't help but cringe at, "the last time I we spoke your plan was to go to NYU, have you heard back from them yet?"

"Yeah. Last month I got my letter," I reply, "I got in."

The squeak that falls from her lips is seriously one I could have lived without hearing but her enthusiasm is actually kind of nice. I know a lot of the teachers don't really expect much from me so it's nice to finally prove some of them wrong. Not that I hold any of their opinions very highly.

"Yeah," I hum, not really sure of what else to say while biting my lip to ensure she doesn't see the smile threatening to form on my lips. I may be proud of it but I have no intention of letting her see that happiness.

"Have you decided what you would like to study? They have a pretty great music program there if that was something you would like to pursue, I know how much you love singing in glee club. Mr. Schuester has mentioned that you are one of the best singers they have, if only you would apply yourself more and-"

"Law," I cut her off, not entirely sure why I said it. Sure, I've considered it before, seeing as my mom is one of the most well known lawyers in all of Ohio. But it's not exactly something I ever pictured myself doing. I also hate to think that her and Mr. Schue talk about me outside of class, creepy. "Or maybe English," I add, "not music though.

"Well those are both great options and just by looking at your grades I think you could excel in whichever you choose," she tells me, still flashing that 100 watt smile. How the fuck does she keep that up all day?

"Have you given any though to what you will be doing in terms of living arrangements? You have the dorms as an option as well as off campus living."

Scoffing at the though of living in a 10x10 box with another person, I let her know that I will most definitely be searching for an apartment to live in. When she asks about the possibility of a roommate, I shrug. Why does she care who I live with, or where I live at all for that matter?

When the bell rings, indicating the end of lunch as well as our session, I hurry out of the office and down the hall to where I spot a few other cheerleaders standing. I may have missed the chance to boss them around for the hour but time is quickly ticking by. I need to get as much use out of them as possible before graduation.

My short journey is interrupted, however, when I feel something collide with my shoulder. Not expecting the contact, my body falls forward towards the ground.

"Fuck," I scream as I brace myself for the impact. But it never comes. Instead, two strong hands wrap around my waist, helping me back on my feet. Looking up to find their owner, I'm met with the unmistakable blue eyes of on Brittany Pierce and instinctively pushed her arms off of my body.

"Oh my God, Santana, I am so sorry," I hear another voice cry and look down to see Rachel Berry on the ground, scrambling to pick up the few items she must have been carrying. She must have been the _thing _that banged into me. "Brittany and I were debating whether ballet or contemporary requires the most skill and I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings."

"Whatever, Treasure Trail, just make sure it doesn't happen again," I threaten, adjusting my skirt back to it's proper position. She flinches at the nickname. "Next time imma go all Lima Heights on your ass so you better watch out."

With those words, I leave her and Brittany to clean up the rest of her mess and continue over to my teammates. One of the other girls high-fives me, praising me for my verbal smack down and I smugly accept it. If there is one thing I'm good at, it's putting people in there place. Sometimes that's all people need, a little reminder of where they belong.

…

"Santana," I hear my name being called in that annoyingly squeaky voice and it almost prevents me from turning to face the woman.

Reluctantly I do and I see her walking quickly down the hall towards me, ginger hair flowing behind her. I try to think about what she could possibly want from me but before I can figure it out she's standing in front of me with a freakishly large smile on her face. She must bathe in bleach the smell is so strong.

"Santana," she repeats and I widen my eyes, trying to egg her on. I don't have all day here. "You know when we were talking the other day and you said you were looking for a place to stay once you move away for school?" Pretty sure I didn't say that. But before I have the chance to correct her, she continues. "Well, I think I may have found a place for you. One of the girls I spoke to earlier is looking for a roommate and I suggested you."

My first thought is that she wants to shack me up with Berry so I ask but she assures me that, while Rachel will be in the city, she will be staying in the campus dorms. "Well, who is it then?" I practically demand, growing all the more impatient at her.

"You know her but I don't want you to brush the idea off quite yet," she says, really not making this seem anymore appealing than if I was rooming with the hobbit. "Why don't you stop by my office after school today and we can discuss this more."

The bell rings and the halls quickly become more congested than before with people trying to get to their next class on time. The rush doesn't give me much time to think of a way out of it so I give her a small nod before heading off to class.

...

Trying my best to write the entire encounter off as one of her weird sessions doesn't work and my mind continuously wanders, not wanting to drop the conversation. For the rest of the day, I'm plagued by the thought of who she could possibly be talking about.

By the time glee rolls around, my wandering mind hasn't let up. My list has shorted substantially from earlier when the every girl in the senior class was a viable option. Eliminating people I knew wouldn't be in the city, such as Quinn who's heading to Yale and Mercedes who's convinced she'll make it big out in L.A., along with the skanks and a few select others I know won't be graduating on time, the list has diminished to just under fifty students. Not including those whose names I do not know.

I'm still mentally checking people off the list when Rachel, followed closely by Brittany, enters the choir room and demands the attention of the group. Standing in front of the room, looking much too comfortable up there for any student, she begins rambling on about something that I'm sure she finds very interesting. I, however, do not give a shit and I continue on with my list.

At some point the pair must have seated themselves because Mr. Schuester has taken the floor again, guitar in hand, and is singing some sad song that drones on about going how we will all be forever young or something. I don't know. But Rachel, always one for the dramatics, soon breaks out into tears and starts rambling on about how much she's going to miss us all and that we have to keep in touch. Yeah right. Once I'm out of this town I'm never looking back. Family be damned.

If she ever manages to find me in New York I'll just start walking in the other direction. There should be seas of people to get lost in, right?

Glee finally ends, after one of the longest hours of my life, and I quickly spring out of my chair and down the hall to Ms. Pillsbury's office. As much as I don't want to spend anymore time with her, another minute in that classroom is not an appealing alternative Once I arrive, I slip into the chair as always and breath in that now familiar scent of cleaner. She finishes wiping down her desk before acknowledging my presence, sending me a smile that makes me believe I'm not going to like what she has to say.

"Just give her one more minute and then we can get started," she chirps in response to the eager look on my face.

Wait for who? The girl was coming here? She totally did this to corner me into agreeing to stay with them. What kind of terrible person would I be if I rejected them to their face. Only if she knew me would she have realized this is pointless. I have no conscience.

"Hey Ms. P, sorry I'm late, Rachel got a little emotional in glee so I helped her get cleaned up," I hear coming from the doorway, my head whipping back to look at her so fast that I'm sure I caused some serious damage. The voice belonged to Brittany. The blonde, bubbly sidekick of one Rachel Berry. There is no way I would considering sharing anything, especially a place of living, with her.

Oblivious to my discomfort, she takes a seat in the chair adjacent to mine and offers me a warm smile. I give her a half hearted one in return and, in that moment, I could kill Ms. Pillsbury.

"So ladies," she starts. The smile on her face is quickly wiped away once she sees the scowl plastered on mine. She looks nervously down at her lap before continuing. "After talking to each of you I learned you would both be in New York this September, Santana in need of a place to stay and Brittany, you in need of someone to split the rent with, and I thought you would make good roommates. I'm not sure how well you know each other but you are both in glee club so I figure that's some common ground you can work with. Besides, both Julliard and NYU are very prestigious schools which require a lot of work and dedication so I'm not too sure you guys will ever have time to spend together. I think it's just the perfect opportunity."

"Wait, you're going to Julliard?" I ask, awestruck. Yes, I know the girl can dance but I had no idea she was good enough to pursue it as a career. Damn.

"Yeah, I got a full scholarship for dance," she tells me in a quiet tone that gives me the impression that she's growing uncomfortable in my presence. "Weren't you listening to Rachel in glee? She, like, announced it to the club."

"Nah," I say, shrugging, "I learned to tune her out years ago." At my words, I notice a look of sadness flash across her face and quickly try to fix it. For some reason, I just can't stand seeing the usually so chipper, happy girl, upset. "Congratulations though, you are really good and with a full scholarship I'm obviously not the only one who thinks so."

A wide smile grows on her face and my eyes lock on hers for the second time this week. The smile she gives me was somewhat worth the fact that it practically killed me to dish out a compliment.

"So Santana," Ms. Pillsbury chimes, causing me to jolt up in my chair, breaking eye contact with the other girl. "Do you think that living with Brittany could be something you would consider? It's in a pretty decent part of town and the rent is extremely low for the city. You will have your own room so privacy shouldn't be an issue, it just seems like the perfect set up to me. What do you think?"

Once she finally stops gushing over how perfect the situation is, I actually run her words back through my mind. On paper, it really does seem perfect but I'm not entirely sure how well it would work in practice. Living with this girl who I barely know isn't something that appeals to me in the slightest, but the alternative to living with Brittany is living with someone who was actually a complete stranger and that terrifies me. That alone, however, still isn't enough for me to agree. My father can easily be swayed to pay for me to have my own apartment, though that means living alone in a new city which also terrifies me.

In the midst of my thinking, I feel a hand on my shoulder. Instead of shrugging it off, for some reason I only look to see that it's Brittany's. Since kindergarten we've been in the same school and I don't think we've ever touched. Now, here we are, mere weeks from graduation and she's managed to touch me twice in a week.

"You don't have to say yes, don't feel obligated to just because I'm here. You can take a few days to think about it or you could just say no, I pinky promise I won't be upset," she says in an innocent, calming tone. Removing the hand from my shoulder, she extends her pinky out to me and I take it. I fucking take the pinky. Since when do I take pinkies?

"I'll do it," I blurt out. Where did these words come from and why don't I stop them. "I'll be your roommate."

"Really?" she asks in a hopeful but skeptical tone. I nod and, before I can think, I'm being engulfed in a hug. First pinky linking and then hugs. Why this girl has the power to turn the second in power HBIC into a twelve year old girl is beyond me but then she smiles at me and I forget what I was so upset about.

"Alright then, that's just wonderful!" Ms. Pillsbury says clapping. Truthfully, I'd forgotten she was even there but at the reminder I shoot her another scowl before asking if I can leave. I send Brittany one final smile before getting up and leaving the office.

...

That night, I lay awake in bed trying to come up with a way to get out of this. I manage to come up with a good few excuses, most of them involving faking terminal cancer or a severe fear of taxis which prevent me from moving to the city, but I know I'll never be able to actually go through with them. Brittany just seemed too happy about the whole thing, I can't just disappoint her like that.

...

Three months later as I sit in the back of my parents truck, wedged between stacks of boxes, I can't help but wonder if I made the wrong decision.

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There you have it. There will be lots of ups and downs in this story but I promise that Brittana end up together so no worries.

Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed/favourited this story. It honestly took me a few months and a lot of internal debate to finally upload this (I worry too much, I know), so to see people actually reading and enjoying it is pretty awesome. If you guys have any questions, you can send me a pm on this or on my tumblr, the link is in my bio.

Anyways, next chapter. Hope you like it!

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The music pounding loudly in my ears helps to block out the world around me. Everything from the boxes stacked on either side of me to my parents loud, off key singing. It also silences the thoughts swimming rapidly through my head.

We're New York bound.

Ever since I was a kid, I've always loved road trips. Something about being locked inside of a car with no choice but to stay put makes me feel at ease. It may sound a little odd but they make me feel free, I feel safe in here.

Growing up, we spent a lot of time during the summer months driving around the state to visit my father's family. My parents and my brother and I would all pile into my mom's old minivan and drive for hours. Maybe I initially began loving road trips because my brother was stuck with me in there. I'd always admired him, still do, but growing up he never seemed to have time for me because he was three years older and wanted to spend time with his friends. But when we'd take those trips, he didn't treat me like his annoying kid sister. Instead, I was the one he wanted to talk to, to play with. He made me feel special.

Right now, locked inside this metal box, I feel that same calmness and security fall over me. The familiarity of my father's terrible voice singing along with the radio and my parents constant bickering over who gets to drive after the next rest stop, these are things I've witnessed my entire life. I might be in the midst of a move from a small town to one of the largest, busiest cities in the country but I still crave that predictability, something which will be much harder to find once we arrive.

I close my eyes and get lost in my own world, the calmness allowing me the freedom to abandon my worries. Maybe I made the right decision, agreeing to live with Brittany. Maybe I didn't. In here, the inner battle between being incredibly excited and completely shit-baked doesn't matter. Time is no longer important in my head as we drive down miles of endless highway.

A tapping on my knee causes my eyes to jerk open and I look up to see my mother's lips moving. _Well that lasted long_. Pulling the headphones unceremoniously from my ears, I look out the window to try to figure out where we are.

"Mija, I told you not to have that music so loud. You'll be deaf by 40," my mother says from her place in the passenger seat.

Smiling at her annoyed tone, I put my arms over my head to stretch. "How much longer?" I ask hopefully. Although I love road trips, my body is not really liking it at this moment. As I stretch my legs out in front of me as far as possible I can feel the blood begin to flow again, causing that irritating tingling sensation.

"Only about an hour or so. This is the last stop before we get there so if you need to use the washroom or anything, you should do that now," she answers, referring to the small convenience store we're parked in front of.

I nod in response but stay seated. I really need to take a piss but the boxes around me make it seem not worth the trouble and I figure I can wait the hour. Instead, I reach into my pocket to pull out my phone.

When the screen illuminates I see a few texts from Quinn, who is on her way to New Haven with her mother, but the majority of them are from Brittany. I open the first one and watch as a picture fills my screen.

Since graduation, there may have been maybe three times I've seen Brittany. We don't exactly run in the same social circles so the only time I saw her was in passing, I'd catch a glimpse of her at the mall or walking down the street. So when I got a text mid-July asking me if I was '_pumped_', her words, not mine, I was thoroughly confused.

Turns out Miss. Pillsbury gave her my number so we could get everything for the apartment settled. Once everything was ready, however, and we didn't have the apartment to use as a conversation starter, things got awkward so for the past few weeks I haven't spoken to her.

That was until yesterday when she arrived in the city and sent me a photo message of herself in an empty bedroom. She's been sending me constant updates and photos of the apartment ever since. Though I barely know her, the sight of her sprawled across the floor of what she says is out living room brings a smile to my face.

"I got you guys some candies," my father says as her gets back into the truck, dangling a bag in front of him and subsequently pulling me from my thoughts. "We ready to head out?"

"Yes," I say desperately, wanting nothing more than to get to the apartment. Sliding my headphones back into my ears, I try to find that semi-comfortable position I was in before.

* * *

Hell is the only appropriate word I can use to describe the rest of our journey.

Apparently the patch of highway we have left to cover is the most underdeveloped in the entire country and I'm surprised I haven't pissed myself by the time the city comes into view, with all the bumps and swerving. It also happens to be rush hour so traffic is backed up so far that our expected hour drive has quickly turned into two. Just fabulous.

A quick text to Brittany, explaining my situation, has her waiting patiently for us at the door of the building and, before the truck has even stopped, I'm pushing the boxes out of my way to get to her. I really need to find the bathroom.

"You must have really had to go," she says with a nervous laugh as I emerge from the bathroom of our apartment. I don't think I've ever flown up five levels of stairs so quickly in my life.

"I actually though I was going to die. That's the worst I've ever had to piss," I tell her, causing her to laugh at the seriousness of that statement.

As we stand there, my eyes dart around the apartment, taking it in for the first time. Though I've never been here before, it looks familiar from all of the pictures Brittany has sent me.

It still feels different to actually be here though, knowing it's implications. This place symbolizes the start of my adulthood and not the kind that you supposedly enter on your 18th birthday. No more parents to nag you about homework or clean up after you. Responsibility falls to me now. It's odd to think that this is the place the I get to call home for the next few months, even odder to think about the girl I'll be sharing it with.

"Let's head back down and help your parents," Brittany suggests, breaking the silence that has fallen over the room. "I'm sure they don't want to move all of your things up here by themselves."

Reluctantly, I press myself off of the wall I've been leaning against. "They'll be fine, they're strong," I say, knowing that we're going to have to help but wanting to delay it for as long as possible.

"That's what Rachel's dad's thought when they helped me move all of my stuff in here. After ten minutes they were practically begging me and Rachel to help them." A smile stretches across her face at the memory.

"Why were Rachel's father's helping you move? Where were you parents?" I ask curiously as we make our way back down to the ground floor. It's probably a little early for me to be asking such questions but we're going to be roommates so I should get to know her. Also, I'm a little nosy at times.

"They drove me here. My mom doesn't drive and the Berry's were coming anyway to bring Rachel so they offered to take me." The tone of her voice shifts to one slightly sadder but she quickly catches herself and starts gushing about how wonderful the Berry's are.

At the sight of my parents, the conversation is quickly forgotten and the heavy lifting begins. Where the fuck did half of this stuff even come from?

…

"Well girls, we're gonna head out," my father announces, reaching his arms around me. "We need to get a few hours in before it gets dark."

Everything is where it should be. My bed is together. Dresser in place, ready to be filled with my clothes. Shelves assembled, awaiting a time when books will litter them and dust will use them as their home. This is it, this is the moment I have to actually say goodbye to my parents.

Brittany's still around since she, thankfully, helped us move some boxes. We'd probably still be climbing up and down stairs if it wasn't for her. I don't know where she gets the strength, not even years of training under Sue Sylvester prepared me for that.

I'm almost happy she's here, though. Now I know I won't make a fool out of myself.

My mother pulls me into a long hug, with more force than papi. "I love you so much mija," she whispers into my shoulder. "You be safe and call me every night."

I nod at her, giving her a kiss on the forehead. As the tears begin forming in her eyes, I realize for the first time that this isn't just a big adjustment for me, but also for my parents. I was their last child left at home, now they're going to go home to a quiet, empty house. Just the two of them.

Maybe I'll have to break my _'never return to Lima' _policy to see them for holidays.

Reluctantly, my mother finally releases me and moves to hug Brittany. She accepts it the only way I would expect her to, with a smile.

"You take care of my baby, okay Brittany?"

"I will, Mrs. Lopez," she agrees, smiling down at the woman who is much shorter than herself.

With another kiss to my head from mami, my parents make their way out of the apartment. With them, they seem to take every single sound.

I figured it would be slightly awkward at first, being alone with Brittany. Considering we barely know each other and I've pretty much bullied her best friend for the better part of 4 years, I didn't assume conversations would be plentiful. But the silence that takes over the room is almost eerie. For the first time, I realize how little we actually know about each other and how difficult this could be. Neither of us do so much as to move from where we are standing. We look around, but avoid each others gaze.

This has been an exhausting day. With the hours of driving, the lifting, and now dealing with the realization that I'm actually on my own, it's all a little overwhelming and I really can't find the energy to deal with the awkwardness any longer.

Quickly, I grab the few boxes of my things that have yet to make it to my bedroom and head that away. I hear her ask if I need any help but I don't want her around to see and touch all of my personal things, and I really just want to be alone right now, so I tell her that I can manage. Closing the door behind me, I quickly find my radio in a box so it can get rid of all this quiet I never associated with the city.

…

It takes a few hours but eventually all of my clothes are folded neatly in my drawers, my bed is made, and a pile of notebooks and pencils are stacked on the small desk in the corner of the room. I look around one last time, knowing the room will never be as neat again, and head out into the living room.

Expecting to see Brittany's blonde head bobbing around, I'm almost disappointed when she's nowhere to be found. I would check her room but I'd be pissed if she barged into mine so I just leave it be. My question, however, is answered when I get the kitchen and see a small piece of paper with my name scribbled across the top.

_Santana,_

_Rachel asked me to go with her on a tour of her campus (she goes to NYADA in case you didn't know that. I know you like to block her out sometimes), so that's where I am. I didn't want her to be lonely in a city where she doesn't know anyone else. I wasn't sure if you wanted to know where I was but I didn't want you to think I was abducted by aliens or something, even though that could be fun. So, yeah. Don't worry, I'm safe._

_I'll see you later!_

_Your roommate, Brittany S. Pierce_

My nose scrunches as I read over the words. It seems a little odd but then again this is Brittany, or at least the Brittany I think I know. Maybe roommates do things like this, I don't know. Maybe this is something friends do.

Crumpling the note and tossing it into the trash can, I spend the time she's out inspecting the apartment. Everything seems to work, as far as functionality is concerned. Looks and appeal is something completely different but hopefully my dad's credit card can fix some of that.

Regardless of how it looks, it still doesn't change the fact that I'm living with Rachel Berry's best friend. She _does _seem okay from what I've seen today, and much less annoying than Berry, so maybe it won't be as bad as I expect it to be.

Who am I trying to kid? This is going to be fucking brutal.

…

A loud scream from somewhere in the apartment causes me to bolt upright in bed, my head spinning from the sudden movement. I look at the clock on my bedside table to see that it's nearing 7AM. What the actual fuck?

Another scream followed by a loud bang has me springing from the bed to the door. I can tell it's Brittany who's making the noise but why? Maybe someone broke in, or maybe the place is on fire.

Suddenly I don't feel quite as tired as I grab the closest item to me and make my way out into the apartment, my feet quiet upon the floor as to not inform any possible intruder of my whereabouts.

"Brittany," I whisper as I near her room, trying to get her attention.

No reply.

A quick inspection of the living room gives me no clue as to what has Brittany squealing so I decide to bust into her room. What? They do that on T.V. all the time.

Now there is another scream but I'm pretty sure this time I'm the cause of it. "Santana," she says breathlessly, hopping behind me.

"What is all this screaming about Blondie, you trying to get us kicked out after one night?" I ask annoyed now that I can see there is no actual danger in the room.

"There was a big bug. Why do you have a clothes hanger?" she asks, looking down at my hand.

"With the blood curdling screams you were letting out I though you were being murdered or something."

"And what, you were going to save me with a twisted piece of metal?" she smirks.

"Shut up," I huff, walking further into the room. "Where is this bug so I can kill it before I kill you for waking me up at this ungodly hour."

"I woke up to go use the washroom and I saw it crawling up the side of my bed," she starts with a look of concentration on her face as though she's replaying the scene in her head. "Then I jumped up and screamed. I lost him after that."

Letting out a sigh, I begin to pick the sheets off her mattress which I notice is only laid on the floor. Weird. But I continue my search, acting as though I wouldn't of had the exact same reaction had I been the one to find the bug.

"What did this bug look like exactly?"

"It was black and big and round," she explains from the doorway.

More than a few sarcastic comments come to mind but I silence them because she actually looks genuinely terrified. It's also a little early to start a fight with my roommate considering the school year hasn't even started yet.

"Well I don't see a bug anywhere," I tell her as I pull the last item off the bed, trying to hide the relief that passes over me. Playing exterminator is definitely not one of my hobbies. "Are you sure you didn't imagine it?"

Her head shakes back and fourth violently. "No! It was definitely there, I swear!"

Looking around one more time, I drop the hanger. "Well I think it's gone now," I try to convince her, not really sure of what else to say. She still looks skeptical though so I come up with a quick solution. "Why don't you run out to get us some breakfast. There is like no food in this place and we're awake now so we might as well eat. I'll continue the search for the bug while you're gone."

She doesn't look entirely sold so I jump up and run to my room to grab some money. "Here," I say, handing her a few bills. "I think I saw a coffee shop just down the street, I'm sure they have something decent."

"Okay," she finally agrees. "Just let me grab some clothes."

Instead of a dresser like any normal human being would use to store their clothes, Brittany pulls a shirt and some pants from a garbage bag stashed in the corner of the room before slipping out to get changed.

As soon as she's out of sight, I plop down on the bed, abandoning the search.

Looking around Brittany's room for the first time, I see how little she actually has in here. Aside from the mattress, there is a small dresser with a lamp on it and a fold out chair, nothing else. Not even a picture on the wall or mat on the floor. There is a chance she just didn't unpack yet but the lack of boxes lying around doesn't make that seem likely. I guess she planned on buying her stuff here.

…

"I got some bagels, blueberries, and coffee," Brittany announces as she reenters the apartment, food in hand.

"Thanks," I say, taking a coffee from the tray. "Whatever instant crap we have here is terrible, it's been too long since I've had a good cup of coffee."

"You've been in town for like 12 hours," she laughs, laying the rest of the food on the kitchen counter.

"Like I said, too long."

As the first sip of the hot liquid hits the back of my throat I let out a soft moan. I prop myself up on the counter and dig through the bag to pull out a bagel.

"So did you get the bug?" she asks, popping a few blueberries into her mouth.

"Mmhh," I mumble through a mouthful of bagel. "Totally. Flushed him down the toilet," I lie.

"San," she practically screams. "You killed it?"

Wow, totally not the response I was expecting. Where's my thanks for getting up at 7 fucking AM to search her room for a bug?

"Uh, yeah. You were the one who told me to."

"I didn't tell you to kill it, I just wanted you to get rid of it."

"And I did," I reply, trying my best not to lose my temper here. I'm already running on fewer hours of sleep than normal, I can't be held responsible for my actions at this point.

Brittany slumps to the floor across from me and starts nibbling on her bagel. "You should have let it go. Opened the window for him or something."

She actually sounds upset that I killed a stupid little bug. One that I didn't actually find or kill, for the record. I consider telling her as much but that will probably only further upset her and my sleep cycle.

"Whatever," I mumble annoyed, "a thanks would have also worked. Next time you wake up with a giant beetle on your forehead, don't come crying to me about it."

Deep breathes, I tell myself as I walk as calmly as possible out of the room. Not even twenty-four hours in to this whole living together thing and I already can't stand to be in the same room as her. That doesn't seem like a very promising sign of things to come.

…

"Santana, I am honored you allowed me to accompany you on this excursion. I know my style is very unique and geared towards Japanese business men with a specific fetish, as you have told me, but I feel as though I can still be of some use. See, my dads have always-"

"Shut it, Berry. If it were up to me you wouldn't even be in the same state as me right now. You're here because Brittany wants you here so if you know what's best for you, you won't address me for the rest of the day or, well, ever," I hiss, quickening my pace to get ahead of the duo.

Apparently when my dad was in town he mentioned to Brittany that he was leaving some money with me to buy furniture for the apartment so for the past few days she's been asking me when we could go. After incessant nagging, I finally gave in this morning, not thinking that she would bring the midget along. How do I get myself into these situations?

As we walk through the crowded mall, the two of them having conversations I don't even want to understand, I can't help but feel as though this is some type of punishment for the way I treated them in high school.

"San, can we go in here?" I hear Brittany ask and nod without even looking at the store.

It's not until I'm a few feet into the store, Rachel and Brittany already way ahead of me, that I realize it's a pet store. The two of them together is like dealing with a pair of five years olds. Impossible.

"Fuck no," I exclaim, trying to get Brittany's attention but she's too caught up in the hamster display to hear me.

A few parents who give me dirty looks seem to have heard though. This is going to be a long day.

…

"This is New York, for Pete's sake. How are there no vegan items on this menu?"

Not only does Berry dress like a 70 year old woman, she also talks like one. Good to know.

Much to my dismay, the two of them decided we should grab some food between furniture stores so here we are. In some dingy little place that Rachel insisted we eat because it had character. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

The only good thing that could possibly come from this small detour is that the food might do something to ease my temper. Dealing with the two of them for an entire day is proving to be quite the feat. I mean, food couldn't possible make either of them more annoying. Hopefully it will be enough to at least get me through the rest of the day because we've only managed to find a kitchen table and some bar stools so far.

"There are some salads," Brittany pipes in.

"Oh, where do you see those?" Rachel asks.

Brittany leans towards her to show her a section of the menu and she gets so close she might as well take a seat in her lap.

This is exactly what they've been like all day. Completely absorbed in one another, not aware of anyone or anything around them. Walking through stores with their arms linked, whispering in each other's ears. I mean, that's not something I've ever done with any of my friends.

It's this type of behavior that made me uncomfortable back in high school. Without shame, Brittany can cuddle up with a girl in a public place like this without any regard for those around her. _I_ know they're only friends but that doesn't mean everyone else does.

"Hey, Homos," I cackle, trying to hide my discomfort. "This is a family restaurant, you might want to tone down the disgusting flirting. Wouldn't want these kids to be scarred."

Judging from the look on Rachel's face, she wants to say something to me but Brittany stops her. Sinking back further into her chair, her grip on Rachel's hand slips and she places it in her own lap. Apparently they don't find me as hilarious as I do.

Once the food arrives, I give in and eat my food in silence. I don't want to talk to them and they don't seem to want anything to do with me. It's a win-win situation for everyone if we ignore each other.

…

After another few hours of relentless searching, painfully slow hours might I add, we eventually find a couch the three of us agree on (I still have no idea why Rachel had any say on the matter, but whatever, it's done). Playing up my best flirty tone, the couch almost beats us back to the apartment in the arms of two blushing teenagers who work at the furniture store. What would I do without these looks?

"This couch is so awesome," Brittany beams, bouncing up and down on it.

Compared to five minutes ago when she was jumping on it, this is toned down. It's still the most excited I've ever seen anyone over a couch. One that's not half as nice as the dark leather one I wanted, might I add.

Just as I'm about to take a seat next to a slightly calmer Brittany, Rachel decides to plop her fat ass down, leaving virtually no room for me. If it were any other day, I would bitch her right ear off but, right now, I really don't have the energy to do more than scoff at her.

I pull over an old chair I found on the side of the road and take a seat. What? It's vintage.

I also happen to know just how actively Rachel hates it.

As I sit there, listening to the two of them engage in yet another conversation, I can't help but feel left out. Whatever. It's not like I like them or want to be their friend. I'm just bored. Having no one else to talk to is just starting to annoy me a little, I love to hear myself speak.

We really should have bought a T.V. today.

I tune in as Rachel begins telling a story about some guy she met in the residence bathroom. She keeps rambling on about how cute he is so I continue to listen only because this information could be useful teasing material if he ever comes around for a visit.

"We just had this connection, it was magical. The moment our eyes met, this rush of warmth fell over me, made me feel something I've never felt before."

"Probably gas," I interject. The look Rachel throws me lets me know my comment was very much not appreciated but she's still too afraid to cross me. "Or maybe you just felt turned on. God knows Finnept couldn't turn even you on if he tried."

"That is rude, Santana and I would appreciate it if you didn't talk of Finn in such a cruel manner," she scolds. Why is she defending that troll of an ex boyfriend? "Finn is a nice boy, despite his two left feet and tendency to be slightly flat. Besides, there are more ways to keep a girl satisfied than just copulating. Touching, kissing, just being intimate with-"

"Whoa, whoa," I yell, covering my ears with my hands. "I'm gonna stop you right there because, _newsflash,_ nobody cares and I would rather not spend the rest of my day getting reacquainted with lunch."

A small gasp leaves her lips but once again she is too afraid to cross me. If I have to deal with Berry on what seems will be a daily basis, at least I can still keep her in line. I fake a few puking noises just to get my point across.

"Santana, be good," Brittany chimes in sternly. I don't know it's the fact that I was so caught up in Berry that I completely forgot she was here, or the fact that she is actually talking back to me, but I'm rendered speechless at her words. "Go on, Rachel."

"Thank you, Brittany. Well, as I was saying, I think it was fate that we met. Wholeheartedly I believe there is some reason we crossed paths, that the universe wanted the both of us to be in that bathroom in that moment." She actually sounds completely captivated by her own words. Then, it's like a light flips on over her head and her face lights up. "Do you think we could be soul mates?"

A loud laugh involuntarily falls from my lips, even though I wouldn't have stopped it anyway. Once again, the hobbit is unimpressed by my outburst and sends me a scolding look. "What? You actually believe that crap? Soul mates and fate, it's all a load of bullshit. You make what you earn in this world, nothing else is going to help you along the way. I wouldn't sit around waiting for the Fate Fairies to set you up on a date with that soul mate of yours."

"You know what, Santana? You are one of the rudest people I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. You're vile, inconsiderate, and right now you're jealousy is ruining my good mood."

"Well, Treasure Trail, if my mood isn't to your liking I guess I'll just leave. Oh wait, this is my apartment. Maybe you should be the one to leave. Don't get that abnormally large schnoze of yours stuck in the door on your way out."

That sets her off. Springing to her feet, she stands with her hands on her hips trying to look intimidating. I'm barely able to suppress my laughter. "Just because all anyone thinks you're any good for is a one night stand, don't take out that anger on me."

_Ouch. Really, Berry? You wanna play that game? _

"At least I can get laid," I yell, forcing myself to my feet. "You practically scream virgin, Rachel. I would say it's because you wanted to wait, you do resemble Virgin Mary in more ways than one and you are a tad bit prudish. But wasn't it you who said girls want sex just as much as guys? So it must be that no one has tried to get past those fugly plaid skirts you are so fond of. Even Brittany can get laid and how many lesbians do you know in the entire state of Ohio? Let alone that cow town."

My rant has left me short of breath and I stand there in front of them, panting heavily. I'm a bitch who tells things like they are, what you see is what you get. Rachel's face is beaming red now but instead of waiting around for her to ream me out, I figure she's not worth it and turn to make my exit.

However, as I'm walking away, I hear Brittany pipe in again. This time, it's different. She's defending me. At least, that's what it sounds like.

For whatever reason, I can't be forced to leave. From my spot by the doorway, I listen.

"Maybe Santana is right," Brittany says calmly, more so than anyone else during this conversation. "Not about you or your skirts, Rachel, but about soul mates. I don't think we're destined to be with one person, that fate will help bring them to us. How would you explain all the divorces, the cheating and lying, the lonely singles. When you're with someone, you can't help but feel they're the one for you. Then, they leave or feelings change, they find someone new, and you're left to deal with all the mess yourself."

The tone she uses almost makes her sound sad. It's the most serious thing I've ever heard her say.

"Britt," Rachel whispers, reaching out to place her hand on her should.

Crap, things just got weird here. The energy of the room has done a 180 flip to completely serious and it's making me uncomfortable. I don't do serious. Yet my feet still won't let me walk away.

"I just don't think relationships should have the pressure of soul mates and fate to drag them down, you know? You put too much pressure on something when you expect it to be perfect. Expect less and you'll never be let down."

"You'll also settle," Rachel retorts.

"I'd rather settle than be heart broken, I think," Brittany muses.

Suddenly, it's as though I'm the tin man and someone has poured oil on my feet, allowing me to finally move. Walking into my room, only able to hear the faint whispers of the others, I try to refocus on my day. It's only 6pm. Plenty of time to get out and acquaint myself with the city without the damper of the other two and their drama.

* * *

I have the majority of this story written out, it's just a really rough draft so time between updates should probably be about a week. I'll aim for an update a week and see what happens.

Let me know what you think/what you'd like to see!


	3. Chapter 2

As the days pass, my tolerance towards Brittany is quickly diminishing to the point where I'm snapping at her for no reason at all. Every time she compliments me, tries to hug me, or even looks at me I find myself going off on her.

Part of it, I believe, is because I've never really been one to take compliments well. Sure, I always had guys telling me how hot I was or girls giving me jealous glares because their boyfriends' eyes would linger a little too long, but they never made me feel good.

They just made me feel uncomfortable.

Ever since puberty hit and my tits grew, I could barely walk down the school hallway without hearing the sounds of wolf whistles and catcalls. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to have some assurance that I look nice but they honestly just made me feel awkward. As though everyone viewed me as an object they could simply use and have no actual feelings for. After a while, being called hot does very little to make a girl feel any better when they know all you want is them in your bed.

With Brittany, however, it's different. I still feel uncomfortable but in a good sense, almost like I'm embarrassed because I know she's being truthful.

It pisses me of.

Knowing she has that power over me puts me on edge whenever I'm around her and sometimes I end up blowing up in her face_._

"Fucking music Barbie." What? I have rage issues. "HEY."

It's about midday but I was still peacefully sleeping until someone decided it was a good time to have a dance party in the apartment. Though classes are only a few days in, they've been kicking my ass so sleep is a department I've been seriously lacking in. Sue me if I choose to sleep in on a Saturday.

Brittany's too busy dancing around to hear me and I want to yell at her again but I get momentarily distracted by her skin tight exercise outfit. The girl should really wear some more clothes.

Shaking my head, I walk over to the stereo and switch it off. "I said turn your fucking music down," I tell her, trying to sound as angry as possible.

"Oh, sorry San." She turns to face me, blushing.

That nickname. I hate it. It sounds too personal, too friendly for our relationship, or lack thereof. Only people who are important to me have a right to call me that. People like my parents or Quinn or even fucking Sue Sylvester. Anyone but Brittany.

In lieu of a comment, I shoot her a glare and turn on my heels, making my way onto the kitchen for some breakfast. I really hope she didn't eat the last of the Froot Loops again, that would just be icing on top of this shit cake of a day.

For some reason, she takes my walking away as an invitation to follow and I have to grind my teeth together to not say anything to her. She means well, I know she does, and what she does shouldn't annoy me. I have no idea why but it just does.

Reaching into the cupboard I find a new box of cereal and look at her questioningly. Some small part of me had been wishing for there to be none so my anger would at least have some cause.

"I know how mad you were last time so I made sure to replace them," she says, smiling widely as she props herself on the counter top.

I don't say anything but I watch her instead. A beat of sweat rolls down her forehead and she quickly swipes it away. I also can't help but notice the quick rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, still panting from dancing.

_What am I even doing?_ I ask myself, shaking my head back and fourth. I must be getting cabin fever or something spending all my free time locked up in this place. It's driving me mad.

Grabbing a bowl, I fill it with cereal and milk, and find a spoon before heading back into my bedroom. I just need to get away from her right now.

Maybe it's time to start making some new friends, some I can actually stand for a change. Maybe it's time to finally break this place in.

…

"Let's party, bitches," someone yells as the door to the apartment is thrown open.

Dancing my way through the crowd of drunken people, I spot the newest arrivals and realize I have absolutely no idea who they are. Apparently word travels fast around a university campus when a party is involved but the strangers are just as welcome as everyone else.

Hell, the people I actually invited are basically strangers to me.

I'm not the type of person who makes friends easily. It's just not a thing that happens because my personality tends to clash with almost everyone else. That's why parties are so awesome. When you're surrounded by people slightly drunker that make you feel better about yourself, it doesn't matter if you're best friends or worst enemies. Everyone is too trashed to care.

As the current song ends and some loud dance beat with loads of bass that I'm sure the neighbors love starts up, I make my way to the kitchen to get another drink. And possibly find a semi familiar face.

Not paying much attention to my surroundings, the alcohol finally starting to make its way through my system, I'm not expecting a strong arm to wrap itself around my waist from behind. From the smell of aftershave clouding my senses, I can tell it's a guy so I mindlessly grind back into him as I fill my cup.

Dancing, flirting, drinking. This is how I spend the last four years, this should be comfortable. But it just doesn't feel right. It's as though whatever I was looking for when I decided to have this party is nowhere to be found.

"Fuck it," I mumble as I chug the contents of my cup and wander away from the guy I was dancing with.

Maybe a new partner would prove this party not to be a complete waste of time.

"Santana?" I hear a voice come from behind me.

I turn a little too quickly which sends my vision spinning, but as soon as I'm able to focus I see Brittany standing there, dressed in her work uniform.

By the look on her face, I can tell she's pissed and there may be a small part of me that, even in my drunken daze, knows she has every right to be. Having a party of this size, though I never intended for things to grow quite so large, without telling her, allowing all these people into her home without her permission. It kind of sucks for her.

"Yeah, Lezzie?" I ask in my best annoyed voice, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. It's not until the name tumbles from my lips and I watch her face fall that I realize how bad they probably sound to her. I know I should apologize but the alcohol is blocking my better judgment.

She almost looks like she's going to cry but she just ends up staring blankly at me, the both of us do. "I-umm," is all she can manage and I'm soon being whisked off by another random guy to the makeshift dance floor. Brittany's a big girl, she can figure things out.

The feeling of warm hands grabbing by hips, mixed with the alcohol now streaming through my blood, any thought of Brittany is quickly forgotten. Get fucked up, party hard. That's what this night is about after all.

…

"Fucking hell," I mumble into my pillow.

My eyes haven't even opened yet and I can already feel the pounding in my head. I try keeping my body completely still in hopes that it will lull itself back to sleep but I have no such luck. Instead, I'm forced to open them and jump out of bed simultaneously as a wave of nausea comes over me.

Good morning to you too, toilet bowl.

A few minutes later, after what feels like the entire contents of my stomach have been emptied into the toilet, I push myself off the floor and walk on shaky legs back into my room to grab some clothes. I really need to shower.

It's not until I get back to my room and find it empty that I feel a sense relief fall over me. Consciously, I didn't even know I was worried about there being someone in the bed but there was obviously a small part of me hoping there wasn't. Despite my reputation, random hookups are not something I do or enjoy. With my state last night I was slightly worried that I let someone stay.

Last night. Brittany. _Damn it._

Searching my brain for any details of the previous night's events, I'm met with some I would definitely rather not relive. There were way more people here than originally planned and I think I remember someone kicking everyone out at one point. Brittany also came home and she was pissed, that I remember quite clearly. It gets a bit blurry after that but as I check the apartment to find my roommate missing, I realize I probably scared her off.

Deciding not to dwell on it too much, at least not now while I can literally feel my head pounding, I gather my clothes and hop in the shower. I should probably apologize to Brittany at some point. That's something I'm going to have to get used to considering how many times I've managed to screw up with the girl and actually feel bad about it.

…

Just as I emerge from a very long, very hot shower, I hear a buzzing coming from the intercom system. Grabbing my robe, I wrap it securely around my body before making my way out of the bathroom.

We very rarely get any visitors so I'm slightly confused as to who it may be. Maybe someone forgot something last night. Or maybe it's Brittany, she does sometimes forget her key.

The loud sound of Rachel's voice pulls me out of my own thoughts and causes me to pull back from the sound. Hearing her voice is definitely not something that will help my current condition.

"Geez Berry, think you could tone it down a little?" I quip, not even trying to hide my annoyed tone. "Brittany's not here so you should go home now."

"No, wait Santana," she says and I can't help but notice the change in her voice. God, this must mean she actually wants me for something. "I wanted to speak with you actually, if that's okay. It will a be a fairly short-"

"Will you please shut up?" I practically beg, pressing my fingers to my temples, but she continues until I finally give in and buzz her up.

In the two minutes it takes for her to get up the stairs, I chug a glass of water and down a couple Tylenols. Even though she never explicitly stated it, I know this is about last night. Just the thought of last night makes my head throb even harder.

There is no other reason why she would want to talk to me, it's not like we're friends by any stretch of the word. I debate jumping out onto the fire escape and pretending I left but she knocks on the door before I get the chance. Knowing her, she would have called the SWAT team to knock down the door if I didn't answer.

With a loud sigh I open the door to let Rachel into the apartment. Though she has been in here about a million times since we've lived here, this time it's different. Aside from the fact that Brittany isn't attached to her hip. Her usual bubbly demeanor is replaced by a more nervous and almost anxious looking one and, instead of waltzing in like she owns the place, she quietly stands by the door until I invite her in. It's kind of amusing to watch.

Without her talking I almost don't know what to do so I just walk to the couch and take a seat, Rachel following close behind. She just stares at me with this worried look on her face and she is seriously creeping me the fuck out. I tell her as much but she just gives me a soft smile. I'm just about ready to ask her who she murdered when she speaks up.

"I know you don't like me Santana and that you would probably rather undergo some form of torture than listen to me speak but-" she starts and I silently whisper _'understatement'_, which I know she hears it but makes no point to mention. "I know you don't like me but you are living with my best friend and I feel like there is a talk we must have because I am worried about her and I'm afraid of what you'll do to her if I don't intervene."

My head cocks to the side, showing my confusion, but that turns out to be a bad idea as the room begins spinning around me. What is she getting at here? Does she seriously think that because Brittany and I are roommates the three of us will become besties? She is shit out of luck if she believes that.

"Brittany is a really great person," she states with more confidence than before. "She is honest, she is the kindest person I've ever met, and she is a wonderful friend but for some reason you don't see her like that. I know what happens when you're here alone with her. She tells me how you are always yelling at her for dancing or making snide comments about her sexuality. I also know that, because she is such a nice person, she won't stand up for herself and say anything back to you. That's why I am here, as her best friend, to tell you to quit it. You were at the top of the social ladder in high school so you tormented those of us who were below you to maintain that status but we are not in high school anymore. This is the real world and you have to realize that being rude and bulling her doesn't make you more popular or make people like you, it just makes you a bitch."

Her eyes immediately widen at the realization at what she has just said. Mine would have as well except they know better than to allow more light to enter them right now. Quickly, she starts apologizing but I just grind my teeth and tell her to continue. I might as well let her finish now because I know she'll make a point to at some point and I'd really like for this to be over with as soon as possible.

"Yes, sorry," she apologizes again and I shoot her a glare. "My point in coming here is that I need you to treat Brittany more pleasantly than you have been. She is unbelievably overwhelmed right now and she really can't handle much more stress. Between her classes and her job she has about enough hours in the day to sleep and maybe practice if you are not home to berate her for interrupting your sleep with her music."

"There is no need for someone to be blaring loud music that early in the morning, it's fucking annoying," I interject.

"You had a party, Santana," she scolds, "a giant college party in her home, without her permission. She showed up at my door last night looking like someone had just killed her dog. You don't have any right to treat her like that. She's a person and she deserves some damn respect, I don't care how high and mighty you think you are."

Crap. I hate to admit it, but I know she's right. I don't let my façade fade though and I try to hold my head up and stand my ground. I'm not going to let Berry talk down to me.

"The point I wanted to make in coming here was just that you should talk to her if you have problems. Brittany doesn't do well with confrontation so you yelling at her is only going to confuse her and make her nervous. Tell her when a good time would be to practice her dancing, let her know if you want to have a gathering. I just need you to compromise here. This is your home, I know that, but it's also Brittany's. She has spoken of moving out of her mother's house so enthusiastically for the past few years and now here it is and she is almost treated as poorly here as she was there."

Rachel's face scrunches at the last part and I can tell she has said more than she meant to. She doesn't elaborate, however, and quickly makes her way out the door after making me promise to be less harsh on Brittany.

As the door closes behind her, thoughts of Brittany fill my head. I know I haven't been very nice to her but that is just who I am. I figured she was used to being picked on that it just rolled off her back by now, that my lame excuses for apologizes worked, but I guess not. And Rachel's right, Brittany does seem like a nice girl. Maybe I should back off just a little, if for nothing else than to keep the hobbit from coming back to yell at me.

…

When Brittany finally arrives home it's close to midnight but I'm still in the kitchen with a few of my textbooks spread out on the table in front on me. If this were any other day, I'd be studying in my room but Berry is still in my head so I'm out here to make sure Brittany gets in okay. It's New York, things happen.

A slight look of surprise passes over her face when she sees that I'm actually out of my room but she recovers quickly, offering me a smile and a 'hey'.

What really gets her is when I actually say hey back. For a second I think she's going to pass out and that though makes my stomach drop. Have I really been that cold towards the girl that a simple greeting would throw her completely off? I know I'm a bitch, but seriously? I try to push it out of my mind but I know it's the truth.

"Have you eaten yet?" I watch as she tries to hide the smile on her face. "I ordered in some pizza for dinner, there's leftovers in the fridge if you want them."

She looks slightly confused at the offer but nods her head anyway. She sprints to her room to drop her bag and jacket and quickly reemerges, still in her work uniform. She sticks the pizza in the microwave and while she waits I notice that the logo on her shirt.

"You work at that coffee shop down the street?" I ask, trying to fill the silence. For some reason I've never even made a point to ask her where it was she spent all her time and for obvious reasons she never told me.

"Yeah," her voice is much more timid than usual.

"You must work a lot, your never really around much," I try, wanting to make her feel comfortable enough to actually have a conversation with me. I don't blame her though, I haven't been anything but a grade A bitch to her since I got here.

"Most days whenever I don't have classes I go in for a few hours, and on weekends," she explains quickly and looks to the timer on the microwave. Do I really make it that hard for her to stay in the same room as me?

When the timer dings she all but whips the door open and turns to head out of the room. "You can eat here," I offer, pushing some of my books to the side so she could have a place. She looks a little apprehensive but her smile lets me know I did the right thing by offering.

She inspects the slice, as though I'm trying to poison her or something, but as soon as I assure her she's safe she begins scoffing it down like it's the first thing she's eaten all day.

An awkward silence fills the air as she eats and I flip through a few pages of the text book in front of me. I can't focus enough to absorb any of the material I read though. Instead my thoughts are on Brittany and I try to think of something to say to her to get this conversation started. Progress has already been made considering we're sitting at the same table but it would be nice to have something to talk about while we did.

Nothing comes to mind and after ten minutes or so she's cleaning up her dishes and then heading to her room. It's only after I hear the sound of her door shutting that I manage to get my breathing back to a normal rate.

What the fuck was that?

…

With each passing day Brittany seems to become more comfortable around me. At first it seemed as though she did a lot of things to be polite but it doesn't take long for her to come around and soon I can see the Brittany from high school reemerge.

I even find myself enjoying her company at times. We only really get to see each other in the mornings and an hour or so at night but for some reason I just like having her there to talk to. We mostly talk about school, or Rachel, or just nonsense things like how the homeless man in front of the supermarket is secretly an ex-president in disguise. It's Brittany's theory but she makes a damn good argument of it. I feel like I don't have to try around her, being myself is good enough which is a comfort level I've never reached with anyone but my parents and Quinn.

I don't know if I'd exactly consider us friends but there is potential there and, for someone like who hasn't made a friend in years, it's kind of exciting.

This morning is slightly different than the others though. Brittany is up and left before I even manage to pull myself out of bed but when I get the kitchen, there's coffee brewed and a note saying that she had to open the shop but she would be home for dinner if I wanted to order something in.

When I read it, I can't contain the smile that grows on my face for three reasons. One, she made me coffee which is the way to my heart. Two, she wants to actually eat a meal together which is something we have yet to do. And three, she left me a note. Aside from that note the first day, which I may have mocked when she came home, there have been no further ones and I didn't know I missed them until now.

I'm glad they're back.

…

There's a slight skip in my step as I walk across campus. After receiving her letter this morning, the rest of my day seems to pass with ease. As I walk through the mostly empty streets on my way back to the apartment, I go back in fourth in my head about what I want for dinner but I ultimately decide to let Brittany choose considering she was the one who asked. My last class of the day got cancelled so it will be a while before dinner anyway.

The t-shirt on the floor as I open our front door should be the first sign that I should turn around and leave the apartment. Brittany has always been so neat, I think mostly due to the fact that she's afraid of what I would say to her if she wasn't, so it's unusual for her to be so careless.

The shoes thrown across the room should be the second sign.

The third sign is on me before I even have a chance to think about it.

The moaning is so loud that I'm amazed I hadn't heard it from the hall. As I walk into the apartment, all I can see I a very naked Brittany lying underneath some topless, short-haired brunette on the couch. I must make a noise because Brittany turns to face me and a bright redness grows over her face. The other girl notices and pulls herself off Brittany.

"Santana," Brittany gasps, fumbling to find something to cover herself with, but I don't allow her to explain further.

Quickly, I rush to my room, shutting the door behind me. My face feels like it is burning so I try fanning it with my hands but it doesn't work. Nothing does. For a single second I debate going to the washroom to splash some cold water on it but that would mean the possibility of running into Brittany so that idea is quickly vetoed.

Just the thought of running into a naked Brittany makes me blush harder and I start pacing back on forth on the floor.

I have no idea what's happening to me. If anything, when I walked in on them it should have made me feel uncomfortable because I've always been told how wrong it is to be gay, catholic parents and all that. Being in glee and around Kurt, and now Brittany, has really made my opinion on gays change but I still thought I would be a little disgusted, especially seeing it in such vivid detail.

Instead, I almost felt a little intrigued and if they hadn't of caught me I seriously don't know what I would have done. Seeing two women together like that almost seems like a fictional concept and I was only captivated because I was curious. Nothing more.

I'm still pacing when I hear a knock on my door and I can actually feel my heart beat speed up in my chest. I know it's Brittany on the other side so it takes that much more effort to reach my hand out and turn the handle. My gaze quickly falls to the floor but I can tell that she managed to put some clothes on.

Thank God.

"I-I'm," she starts, the nerves evident in her voice. "I'm really sorry you had to see that Santana. I had no idea you'd be home yet but I should have taken it to the bedroom or left a warning note or something."

How am I supposed to respond to that? Finally bringing myself to look up at her, I find that her gaze is on the floor as well. She's picking at the hem of her shirt out of nervousness and, for a reason I cannot explain, I reach out and put a hand on her shoulder to try and calm her down.

"It's okay Britt," I tell her. The nickname sounds slightly awkward coming out of my mouth but I hope it will help her feel more at ease. "A warning would have been nice though."

My attempt to lighten the mood backfires, causing her to become even more upset. Walking her to the bed, we both sit down on the edge and I see a tear roll down her face. "I'm so sorry, you should never have to see that. Most people can't even deal with watching two girls kiss or even hold hands and here I make you a witness to that in your own home. I thought you were finally starting to not hate me and then I had to go do something stupid like that to screw it all up," she says with a small sob.

She was afraid that I would be upset with her, that's why she is so emotional?

"Hey, hey," I try to soothe her, rubbing small circles on her back. I am like the least comforting person you could find but Brittany has recently made her way onto my very short list of people who I actually care about so I have to try and do something. "I'm not mad at you. I know back in Lima, and even here, I made my closed-minded opinions very clear but I'm trying to change. I really, honestly, do not care that you like girls." It's not until the words are out of my mouth that I realize how true they are. "Although I would really prefer to never have to walk in on something like that again, even if it was with a dude." That earns me a small laugh from her so I continue. "I also don't hate you, just so you know."

She meets my eyes with her own and I can see most of the anguish vanish. Her face is still flushed and eyes red, but her smile shows she's not as worried as before. I don't understand what it is with this girl but she makes me feel special, like by being kind to her I hold the ability to make her happy. I have to admit, I kind of like it.

"Thank you," she says warmly, almost sounding relieved. "And I promise to never make you witness anything like that ever again. I'm pretty sure someone walking in on me once is a big enough supply of embarrassment for an entire lifetime."

"I bet."

I haven't even thought about how embarrassing this whole thing is for her but she must be mortified. The poor girl is in tears from her embarrassment and here I am thinking about myself. Typical self-obsessed bitch.

The silence causes my mind to race and it goes back to thinking about the other girl. Who is she? I didn't think Brittany was in a relationship but, then again, I don't seem to know much about the girl. The urge to ask all the questions as they fill my head is overwhelming but words seem to evade me. I don't know if our friendship has even reached that level yet but for some reason I need to know who she is.

"So, that girl," I start, not really sure where I'm headed with it. "Is she your girlfriend? I've never heard you speak of anyone so I was just curious. You could invite her over for dinner sometime if you want, I'd like to meet her when she actually has clothes on and-" but my Rachel Berry sized rant is cut off by her laugh. I'm not sure exactly what it is that's so funny so I ask her.

"She is definitely not my girlfriend," she states, still giggling. "I actually only met her today. She came in to get a coffee just as I was just finishing my shift and yeah." Her voice trails off and I can tell she's replaying what she just said over in her head because soon enough she almost yells, "But I'm not a slut, I promise. I don't usually just hook up with people like that. I've only ever been with two other people in my life, I was just-"

Now it was my turn to stop her rant. Waving my hand in front of me to let her know she doesn't need to say anymore, I feel a smile form on my face. She didn't need to explain herself to me, it's none of my business what _or who _she does, but it makes me feel good knowing that she was comfortable enough to.

However, the relief that passes over me when she explains that she's not in a relationship completely throws me for a loop and I really can't bear to hear the entirety of her sex life right now, even if the confession of there only being two other people brings an unexpected warmth over me. What the hell is happening?

It was the girl I think. Even though I didn't even hear her speak, I definitely know I don't like her. I mean, Brittany was completely mortified and she just bolted. What kind of person would do that? Brittany can do so much better.

Thinking about how I'm feeling is starting to make my head hurt so I stand to leave the room.

"You ready to eat? I'm starving. Is there anything in particular you wanted to order in?" I ask from the doorway. Even though she doesn't say it out loud, the look on her face gives her away. Even after my speech she is still surprised that I want to be friends with her, so I just smile at her and hope it reassures her.

"The Chinese place a few blocks over is really good, if you like Chinese," she suggests shyly, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Sounds good to me. I take it your friend is gone?"

"Yeah," she says, letting out a small laugh. I'm relieved she isn't crying anymore. "I don't think I'll ever see her again."

"Her loss," I say with a smile before turning to leave the room.

I don't think she meant for me to see it but at my words her face instantly lights up. Maybe this whole friendship thing is something I can actually manage.

* * *

There you have it, things may be finally starting to move forward for them. Next chapter Santana will start thinking about her feelings for Brittany in more detail.

I'm still going to try and have the next update posted by Thursday but I ended up going on an impromptu road trip with my friend to pick up her new puppy this week so I'm not sure if that will happen. I'll try my best!

Anyways, let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 3

For the reviewer who wanted Santana to have someone to talk to, I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

October brings cold winds and workloads to drive even the most stable of people to drink. It's a horrific week and a half but I manage to get through all my mid-terms and papers relatively unscathed and now all I want to do is relax. All those daydreams of my beautiful bed are about to become a reality.

Making my way up the stairs of out building, I catch a glimpse of Brittany rushing down them.

Since catching her with that girl our relationship has surprisingly started to drift into a more comfortable one where I now actually consider her a friend. The more time we spend together, the more I realize she might not actually be annoying as I first though, she's just unique. She's just Brittany and it just takes some time to get used to her ways.

"Britt," I call, getting her attention. When she sees me she slows her pace and stands a stair lower than me, breathing heavily. I can't help but notice the virtually nonexistent height difference. "You're gonna get yourself killed. Where are you going in such a rush?"

"I've been up all night working on my English essay and I have an hour to get there before it's due," she explains, still panting. "I had no idea being a dancer meant you still had to take actual classes. When am I ever going to need to know this stuff?"

"What, you don't think you're ever going to use the knowledge you've gained from," I glace at the paper in her hand to see the title, "from Frankenstein in real life? What if you need to choreograph a monster themed number?"

She looks off into the distance and I can tell she's seriously considering what I said, probably picturing the whole thing in her head. Knowing she'd spend the rest of the day thinking about it, I remind her that she has to get to campus. She breaks out of her thoughts and gives me a smile before heading down the stairs again.

As I watch her go I get an idea and it's out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Hey," I call, regaining her attention, "if you ever need help in English or whatever I could give you a hand. I'm not a genius by any means but we're probably doing similar things in our classes so…" I trail off, not really knowing what else to say. It's total bullshit, we probably take none of the same classes, but I'm desperate to get her to stay just that little while longer.

However, any doubts I have about my offer are quickly wiped away when I see the huge smile plastered upon Brittany's face. Without saying anything, she sprints back up to me and envelopes me in a hug. No matter how much I hate hugging people, I can never push her away so instead I wrap my arms around her.

"Thank you so much," she says, pulling away from me. I can still see the smile on her face. "I'm kinda dumb so I don't know if even you will be able to help me but it's worth a shot."

"Quit doing that," I tell her and her smile falters, "you're always calling yourself dumb or stupid and you're not. You seem pretty smart to me. All that choreography you have to memorize and steps you've perfected. It's pretty incredible, Brittany."

It's borderline pathetic how much effort it takes not to replace_ it's_ with _you're_ but I wouldn't be able to bring myself to be upset if I had. She's really talented and I'm afraid that things I may have said to her in the past prevent her from seeing that. She doubts herself too much.

"San," she says, blushing slightly at my words. She dips her head so I won't be able to see but I do anyways. "You're sweet, but I really have to go. I'll talk to you later."

Within seconds she is out of my sight and I'm still standing on the stairs. I have never met someone who can make me be so honest, want to be honest, before and it is really starting to scare the shit out of me. There is something so different about her, something that I can't identify even though I know it's there. It's like being around her brings out the best of me, simply thinking about her makes me smile, and I can't control myself.

Due to recent events, specifically a very embarrassing one which I would much rather permanently erase from memory than relive every day since, I've been trying to distance myself from certain feelings I've been noticing.

So far, it's been working out relatively well.

Aside from the fact that every time I see my roommate or the couch my brain is bombarded with images from that day. Brittany kissing someone, someone touching her, Brittany naked. Whenever I least expect it the images pop into my head and I can't shut them off. The worst part, I don't always hate them.

Anyone with eyes could see how beautiful Brittany is, I could even notice that back in high school, so seeing her naked isn't necessarily the worst sight in the world. Her toned muscles and lithe figure show her dedication to dance and any woman would kill to have her body. The only thing about the mental images that I truly hate thinking about is the skanky piece of ass lying on top of Brittany. Something about the woman just makes me so mad and I try my damnedest to block her out of the memories. If I'm forced to live with them I might as well make them more enjoyable.

There is another problem associated with the girl that I've been trying to ignore. The feeling I suspiciously perceive as jealousy that falls over me every single time I think about her.

All the thoughts grow too loud inside my head, making me feel overwhelmed, so I quickly run up the stairs to the apartment to call the one person I know will listen to them, the one person I trust with my life.

Quinn.

…

Underneath the warmth of my blankets, I scroll through the seemingly endless list of contacts in my phone. In all honesty, the majority of them could be deleted and I wouldn't even notice. Back in high school, I prided myself on all those numbers. They made me feel good about myself, it made me feel powerful. They meant something to me but now I probably wouldn't even be able to put a face with half of the names.

Aside from Quinn and Brittany, and I guess Berry counts as well, I haven't really kept in touch with anyone from high school. For the first few months after graduation, I'd text back and fourth with a few people from glee, Mercedes mostly, and some girls from the squad but eventually everyone just got so caught up in their own lives that small talk really wasn't an option.

I kind of miss some of them.

When I come across Quinn's name, a nervous feeling bubbles in my stomach but I try to will it away. I don't ever remember being nervous about talking to her, she's my best friend after all, but in the back of my mind I know why. Quinn was raised in a very traditionally catholic household and after basically being shunned for getting pregnant sophomore year she tried her hardest to get back into her parents good graces, meaning going back to her catholic ways. I'm not even entirely sure what it is that I want to talk to her about.

I quickly hit the call button before I lose my confidence.

"_Santana_," I hear after only one ring, "_I haven't heard from you in a while. How were mid-terms after?_"

"They were pretty good, I'm glad they're fucking over though. What about you?"

"_Better than expected,_" she says. "_I was actually meaning to call you. I was thinking about making the trip up there this weekend since everything should be slow for a while. You don't have anything planned do you?_"

I smile instantly when I hear that. Before leaving Lima, I never really thought about how much I would miss Quinn once we parted ways but these past few months have made me realize what a huge part of my life she really is.

"I suppose you'll want to shack up here too, huh?" I ask jokingly. "We could probably arrange that."

"_Shouldn't you ask Brittany before you offer?_"

"I will but I'm sure she'll be fine with it, she's pretty happy-go-lucky most of the time," I reply, grinning at the mention of the blonde.

"_I take it you two are getting along better now?_" The hint of surprise in her voice is not lost over the phone but I understand why it would come as a shock to her. The last time we spoke I ranted for an hour about how much annoying Brittany was. Oh, how things have changed.

"Yeah, Rachel bitched at me and called me out on my shit to make me realize how terribly I was treating her. She's really fun to be around," I stop myself before I give too much away. "I actually have to talk to you about her, but I think it might be better to do it face to face," I decide.

"_Okay,_" she says skeptically. "_I have to go but when I figure out when I'll be getting in I'll text you the details. You cannot leave me in a crowded train station and expect me to find your apartment._"

"Fine, just let me know when," I try to play it off so she doesn't hear how excited I actually am to have her visit.

"_Okay, see you Friday_"

With a 'goodbye' I hang up and throw myself back onto my bed. Even though I didn't actually manage to tell her anything, it still felt okay. At this point I don't even know what I am feeling so it's probably best that we do this in person, that way she can help me figure it out.

Whatever the fuck is going on with me, I have a few days to figure out how to put it into words.

…

The sound of keys rattling in the door has me springing to feet to open it. Pulling it open, I'm met with a beaming Brittany. She bounces into the apartment, patting me on the head as she passes, and heads to the kitchen. It's a gesture that would have sent me into a rage a few weeks ago but now I'm unable to wipe the smile off my face.

"You seem happy," I tell her as I follow her into the kitchen where I see her head first in the fridge. "Did you get your essay handed in on time?"

"Yup," her head is still in the fridge so her voice is muffled. "And before I forget, one of the guys in my class invited me to a party on Saturday, he said I could ask whoever I want," she pops her head up, loaf of bread in hand, to look at me "Wanna go? Apparently it's going to be quite the shindig."

"Did you seriously just say shin- I can't even say it," my laughter floats through the kitchen and I can't control it. Laughter is much more frequent occurrence recently.

She swats me with a dish cloth but I can't contain the sound coming from my mouth.

"Fine, I'll have to ask some of my other friends." She tries to sound angry, her eyes remaining glued to the sandwich she's making, but she is a terrible actress and I tell her as much.

"I'll have to check about the party though," I explain after my giggles have relented. "You remember Quinn, from high school? She's going to be in town this weekend, I'll have to check and see if she wants to go."

By the look on her face I can tell that Brittany is slightly apprehensive about the thought of Quinn being in the city. As much as I was a bully in school, I was nothing compared to the HBIC.

"She is really a good person," I state, trying to defend Quinn and also assure Brittany that she has nothing to worry about. "I was going to ask if she could stay here but if that makes you feel uncomfortable I can tell her to get a hotel room or something."

"No," she almost yells. "I mean, she's your friend she should be welcome here. Besides, I know how much you hate Rachel and she's here like all the time."

"Yeah but-"

"But nothing," she cuts in, "Quinn is staying here, that's final. Who knows, if she's anything like you we might actually be able to get along."

She grabs her now made sandwich and heads to her room. Under my breath I whisper a soft _'hope so'_ barely loud enough for me to hear and watch her ass sway back and forth until she's out of sight.

…

For a day that started out so well, it sure is going downhill fast.

When I first woke up, I was actually excited for the day ahead of me. Getting to spend some time with Brittany, seeing Quinn for the first time in months, just being able to fucking relax with my friends for a change. Maybe that's my problem. As soon as I start expecting myself to actually enjoy something, shit hits the fan.

The first sign of this downward spiral was when Brittany approached me this morning, sporting a semi-serious face. We had made plans to go to the station together to pick up Quinn, a good way for the two of them to actually get to know each other. Turns out Brittany got called into work and had to cancel last minute.

Next, the sky decided to open up on my way to the train station and the forecasted sunny skies were no more. Pouring rain pounded the pavement, and my body, for the final 10 minutes of my walk which led me to be sitting alone, completely drenched in a freezing cold train station. Perfect.

And now, as I sit in this cold, grimy place, I get a text from Quinn telling me she won't be here for another half hour. What the hell? Apparently she assumed I would be late so she told me the wrong time to make sure I would be here for her.

With nothing else to think of, my mind drifts back to Brittany. Consciously, I don't think I realized how much I was looking forward to spending some time with her and Quinn today. To see if my best friend would be able to see what I do in my roommate. It's not until she told me she had to work and I was forced to hold back a sigh of disappointment, that I realized.

I can't say I was surprised when she cancelled though. Ever since my talk with Rachel, I've wanted to have a serious conversation with Brittany to figure out what's going on with her. I'm not sure if it's because I've been paying more attention recently or something has changed but she always just seems extremely stressed out. Every spare second she has, she's either practicing for one of her dance classes or picking up an extra shift at the coffee shop. I would be stressed if I were her too.

When we spoke in Ms. Pillsbury's office, she told me that she got a full scholarship so I assumed her parents would use the money they had saved for her schooling to pay for the apartment but apparently that's not the case. Last month she was really upset that she was about twenty dollars short on rent and even though I told her it was no big deal she still took up a few extra shifts to make sure it would never happen again and had the money to me by the end of the week.

I don't understand why she won't tell me if something is bothering her. Typically, she's such an open person but when the mention of money or Lima come up, it's as though something flips inside of her. It's not my place to ask, but I just wish she felt comfortable enough around me to open up. Coming from a low income family isn't something she should be ashamed of. Hell, I pretended to be from Lima Heights for years in high school.

The sound of my name being called pulls me out of my thoughts and I spring to my feet.

"Santana," I hear again and scan the crowd to find the source of the voice.

When I spot Quinn's blonde hair bobbing through crowd of angsty passengers, I feel my mood lighten slightly. Okay, a lot.

Unable to hold back my excitement at the sight of my friend, I run to meet her halfway. It's not until after I pull her into a hug that I realize how unusual the gesture is for the two of us. Brittany must be rubbing off on me.

"Hugging Santana? Seriously?" she says into my hair mockingly, noticing my odd behavior, but I can feel her hugging back. "Did you miss me that much?"

"Yeah, yeah Fabray," I scoff playfully, pulling back to looking at her. It's so surreal seeing her here in New York.

She looks somewhat older than she did during the summer, her hair is cut a few inches shorter and she has this new confidence about her. Not the same confidence she used to rule McKinley, but a more mature one.

Wheeling her small suitcase behind her, we make our way out to the bustling streets of the city. I watch Quinn's face as she takes it all in with such awe and I wonder if I looked the same way when I first saw it. I wish I'd been with Brittany when she arrived. The lights, the people, the buildings. She probably couldn't decide where to look first so she just looked everywhere, head spinning around like crazy. I can easily picture the smile on her face.

As we walk through the crowds, we talk about all the things we have missed in each others lives since we last saw each other. Quinn tells me about her new boyfriend, some guy named Matt she met in her writing class, and I tell her about how crazy it is that Rachel Berry is actually becoming somewhat of a permanent fixture in my life.

"So Brittany was really okay with me staying with you guys?" she asks with hesitance. "She no doubt hates me so I don't understand why she would allow me to stay there."

"She is a very forgiving person, just look at me," I explain. "And she isn't allowing you to do anything, she wants you there. Both her and Rachel have managed to put the past behind them and accept me so I don't see why they wouldn't do the same for you. This isn't high school anymore and they know that. Things have changed, believe me. Berry even had the balls to call me a bitch the other day."

Her eyes widen at my words. "And she's still breathing?"

"Yeah, I figured it wouldn't be the best thing to kill my roommate's best friend, could cause some strain on that relationship."

"Who are you and what have you done with Santana?"

I laugh with her but her words stay with me for the rest of the journey. I haven't changed that much, have I? Thinking about it, yes okay I may have changed slightly because I've grown accustom to being civil to people I generally hate and am slightly less resistant to human contact. But I'm still the same person.

I think.

…

Back at the apartment, I give Quinn the abridged tour of the place, show her the couch on which she will be sleeping, and offer her something to eat. We're soon sitting down at the kitchen table with a stack of pancakes in front of us.

"Not that I mind but why are we eating pancakes in the middle of the day?" she asks before stuffing another fork full into her mouth.

"They're the one thing I've managed to learn how to make," I explain, "everything else just ends up burnt or soggy. Britt usually does most of the cooking or we just order in."

"So it's Britt now, hmm?" she asks with a smirk "Speaking of your new bff, where is Brittany?" Her tone isn't annoyed, just intrigued and I explain that she had to work and that she actually wanted to go pick her up with me. "I still can't believe you guys live together, this seems like some alternate universe."

"Tell me about it," I mumble with my mouth half full of pancake. At my words, Quinn sends me a glance that I know all too well. Quinn has always been able to read me freakishly well and any time she knew I was hiding something from her, she'd use that glace to get me to talk. _It's almost like a superpower_, I think before realizing once again that Brittany's ways are rubbing off on me.

"So what was it you wanted to talk to me about? It must be a pretty big deal if you wanted to do it face to face."

Swallowing the rest of my pancake, I drop my fork and look across the table at Quinn.

This isn't a conversation I wanted to have so soon but it's also not one I wish to delay. I just need to get it out there, especially now that she has broached the subject. Holding it up inside of me has proven to be too much and Quinn is my best friend. I know this is somewhat of an important moment in my life so I take a deep breath and start talking.

"How much can you appreciate another girl's body?" is what manages to slip out of my mouth and I internally slap myself for being so obvious. "I mean, like how much do you notice things about them or think about them?"

Quinn just looks confused but plays along anyways. "I guess I can tell if a girl is attractive or not, who can't, but I don't really think about them afterwards. Why? Where is this coming from?"

"I walked in on Brittany and another girl the other day," I blurt out and I watch her eyes bulge in response.

"Seriously? What did she say to you? What did you do? You didn't yell at her did you? I thought you guys were friends."

"Slow down Q, one question at a time," I stop her. "I freaked out and locked myself in my room like an idiot. Then she came in all embarrassed and started apologizing, talking about how I shouldn't have to see stuff like that. And no, I did not fucking yell at her because yes, we are friends."

"Okay, so that's all you were freaking out about?" she asks, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Yes, I mean no, I mean-I walked in on the two of them, ass naked, going at it on the couch where you will be sleeping for the next few nights by the way."

"Why did you have to tell me it was the couch?" she asks, laughing. "But seriously? Are you still that homophobic after living with a lesbian for all this time? I know how we used to be but being away from my family and from Lima has really made me realize how ignorant I was. A few of my good friends at school are gay and so proud of that, they are really just the same as everyone else and we were the idiots who thought there was a problem with it."

A small breath that I didn't know I was holding escapes my mouth at Quinn's words. In my head, I have been bouncing back and fourth the idea of whether or not to actually go through with the plan and talk to Quinn. The initial courage I seemed to gain when I phoned her has seriously diminished since and the alarming thought of her completely rejecting me started taking over.

Though she has no idea what she's doing, just hearing her say those words is like a giant weight off my shoulders, something that makes this entire thing the slightest bit less frightening. I now know that I shouldn't be worried, even if I am fucking terrified to admit it out loud. The one thing about Quinn though is that she won't ever tell anyone else if I ask her not to. She may be a bitch but she is loyal to those she loves and that is one of my favourite things about her.

"S," I hear her say and when I snap back I see her hand waving in front of my face. "You kind of zoned out there for a minute. Do you want a glass of water or something?" she asks, moving to get up but I pull her sleeve, willing her to sit back down.

"I need to tell you this now," I start, trying to keep my voice as strong as I can to hide the fact that I'm afraid, "and I really need your help with it because I am so fucking confused that I don't even know how to deal with it."

A tear runs down my face so I quickly wipe it away, but not before Quinn sees it. "Shit, what's the matter? You're scaring me right now." She moves her chair over next to mine and pulls her arm around my shoulders.

"I-" I begin but my voice but I can't think of the right way to phrase the whole thing. A joke, a sarcastic comment, I search my brain for anything that will take the seriousness out of this moment but all my thoughts seems to be directed at one particular topic. So I give in. "Ever since I saw the two of them on the couch I can't get the image of Brittany out of my head. At first I thought it was just some type of post traumatic stress thing where I was just scarred but the more I think about it, the more I realize it's not."

Another few uncontrollable tears escape and I curse myself for being such a wuss. This is the reason why I never talk about feelings, it just makes things uncomfortable. This sucks.

After several deep breaths, I continue.

"I don't know what's happening to me but I-I think I like her Q, like _like like _her," I admit and focus on trying to control my breathing rather than the time it takes for her to come up with a response. If the situation were any different, I'd be cursing myself for sounding like a twelve year old but I'm too fucking terrified to even care.

"Brittany," she whispers. It's not even a question but I nod my head anyways. "Okay," she says simply, rubbing gentle circle patterns on my back. It's oddly comforting. "Does this mean you're a lesbian or-"

_Wait, what?_

"No, I don't think so." On second thought, "maybe? Ughhh," I let out an exasperated sigh and fold my arms on the table, placing my head in them.

Why do things have to be so complicated? Why does Brittany have to be so beautiful? Why can't there be an attractive guy who would grab my attention and pull me away Brittany? Why does Quinn possess the ability to read me like one of those shitty classics she loves so much?

"It's okay," she says, trying to soothe me. It does feel awkward considering neither of us have ever been very touchy people, especially with one another, but it's something else I can't bring myself to care about right now. "I promise you, this is okay. You don't need to label yourself yet, or ever if you don't want to."

"Yeah?" I say, turning my head too look at her, but it comes out as more of a question. My head is spinning, bouncing around all the currents thoughts invading it, and I can feel myself getting nauseous. Everything is happening to fast, too much too quickly.

She just gives me a reassuring smile and squeezes my arm, as though she can sense my discomfort.

As we continue to sit in silence, I let Quinn's words fill my head. From what I could tell, she really did seem fine about the possibility of me having feelings for a girl and has even made me feel slightly better about the whole thing. The real problem is making myself feel better about it and which will be much harder considering I am far more stubborn.

For arguments sake, let's say I'm actually into Brittany. Like-_want to take her on cheesy dates and do gross, couple-y things with her_-into her. If that's the case, can I picture myself ever asking her out? Would I be able to walk down the street hand in hand with her or kiss her in public?

Up until recently, I've never considered in the slightest the possibility of me being in a relationship with another woman so it'll probably be a while before I'm caught parading around with rainbow flags.

But this could be a start.

"How did you feel when you were around Puck or, umm, Matt?" I ask, trying to remember her new guy's name, "but please spare me any details," I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well with Matt there are few details to spare. We only met a couple weeks ago but I guess he just makes me really happy. Not in a way that your friends or family do, it's like this bubbling happiness that builds the longer you're around them. The same goes for Puck, except a lot stronger for obvious reasons. I think the key factor in differentiating between friendly and romantic feelings for someone is that if you want to be around them all the time, you want them to experience everything with you, and you can't wait until the next time you see them even if you just parted ways, that's when it's more than just friendship."

Her words hit me like a slap me in the face and my breath hitches. The reason Brittany has me questioning my sexuality is because of the way she looks, or at least that's what I believed, but hearing Quinn talk about all this feelings crap makes me realize that maybe this is more than just physical. Never in my life has anyone ever made me feel the way Quinn was describing.

But now there's Brittany.

Maybe the way Quinn says she can tell if a girl is attractive is the same for me with men. I mean, I can tell if a guy is ugly or not but I don't ever recall having that longing feeling she described towards anyone, one where I wished to be around them all the time, never wanting to be apart.

But now there's Brittany.

Though I'm fairly certain she could make anyone smile simply by being around them, my recent bout of happiness is unlike anything I've ever experienced. Even my mother has noticed and we barely speak more than an hour or so a week. When I'm around Brittany, it's as though my bitter ways are tamed and she has me smiling more in a single day than I would in an entire year back in Ohio. Then there's the fact that I always want to be around her. True, this could be played off as friendship but I don't think I can kid myself into believing that. On a good day I can't stand being around Quinn for more than a few hours and she's my best friend.

I'll be in school or watching a movie and see something that I know Brittany would love and just want to tell her about it. Like the other day, I was walking across campus and I saw that there was some type of carnival being held. There were horses and games, something Brittany would have been all over, and I couldn't walk past without stopping to get some cotton candy to bring home for her. Even though I had to walk around for the rest of the day with the bright pink bag hanging out of my purse, it was totally worth the look on Brittany's face when I gave it to her.

I let out another sigh at the memory and put my head back into my arms. Maybe I'm not a hundred percent straight, maybe I'm just bi or maybe it's just Brittany that makes me feel like this. Thinking about it is really starting to make my head hurt so I think about asking Quinn her opinion when I hear the familiar rattling of keys in the door followed by the creak of it opening.

I quickly try my best to clean my face with my hands but it's no use. My make-up must be running down my face, a stained path left in it's place. Quinn's hand gives my arm another reassuring squeeze and that's the last thing I remember before seeing Brittany's face fall.

"Santana, what happened? Are you alright?" Her eyes shift between mine and Quinn's, trying to get some sort of answer out of us.

"It's nothing," I say, trying to brush it off. If my looks didn't give me away, I'm sure the tremble in my voice would have. "I'm just a little emotional today, that's all."

She nods in response but I can still tell she isn't convinced.

The overwhelming feeling of exhaustion mixed with Brittany unexpectedly showing up causes tears to begin filling my eyes and I quickly sprint out of the room and into the bathroom, leaving the two of them alone with a half-assed excuse they probably couldn't even understand. It doesn't make my case towards Brittany seem any better but hopefully Quinn will be able to come up with a decent excuse for my strange behavior. She's really good at that.

Cupping my hands under the freezing cold water, I feel them begin to tingle from the numbing sensation but splash the water over my face regardless. It's almost refreshing, if you ignore the stinging sensation.

Surprisingly, the icy water relaxes me and allows me to concentrate more on the situation at hand. I possibly just came out to my best friend, only to be interrupted by the girl I would maybe like to be in a relationship with. The worry of whether or not Brittany knows what happened is pretty much nonexistent. She may be good at reading people but I definitely don't think she would be able to foresee this. If that were the case, I would have liked a fucking warning.

After hiding away for as long as I see appropriate, I decide to head back out to relieve them of what I can only assume is an awkward silence. With one final look in the mirror, staring at my clear, makeup free face, I make my way out to the kitchen. Surprisingly, only Quinn is left standing there.

"Where's Brittany?" I ask, causing her to turn around and look at me.

"She went to get changed out of her work clothes," she explains but I can tell there's more to it. "You have to remind me never to make you upset because that one is a little firecracker. As soon as you left she started questioning me and threatening me maybe? I don't know, it all happened too fast. She is quite terrifying when she wants to be. I thought she was going to hit me or something."

I smile at the though of Brittany wanting to protect me, also at the image of head cheerleader Quinn getting her ass kicked by glee nerd Brittany. Quinn smiles as well and shakes her head.

"I'm pretty sure she likes you," Quinn admits in a whisper, causing me to blush and duck my head. There is no way Brittany likes me as anything more than a friend, if she even likes me as that. There is way too much bad history between us for anything like that to happen. "She does, I can tell. There is no way that shy little Brittany would say something like that to me unless she really cared about you. If you ever decide to ask her out, I don't think you would anything to worry about."

"What don't you have to worry about?" Brittany asks as she makes her way into the kitchen. Grabbing a bag of chips from the cupboard, she sits on the counter top and starts to eat.

She has the absolute worst or best timing, depending on who you ask.

"Nothing," I answer quickly, looking to Quinn for a way to cover for me.

"She's just worried about one of her grades. In one of her courses, she believes she may have found a better way of doing something that could potentially help her out but she's convinced she's going to fail. I told her she has nothing to be afraid of, a few risks can be good every now and then," Quinn covers for me, smirking at the double meaning of her response. I just look back to Brittany, hoping she doesn't see through the lie.

She apparently doesn't and agrees with Quinn, telling me how she needs to take risks when she dances in order to make any progress. Little does she know she is contributing to mine and Quinn's silent conversation.

"Has Santana asked you about the party tomorrow night?" Brittany asks Quinn, changing the subject.

I can actually feel relief wash over me at her words, finally relaxing for the first time since this whole ordeal began. Maybe this change in topic can bring the attention off of me for long enough to allow me to think without getting worried glances from Brittany and knowing smirks from Quinn.

"No," she says turning to me, "what party?"

"Some kids are throwing a big party tomorrow night and Brittany asked if we wanted to go. I know you don't really know anyone here but I think it could be good," I say in a much more relaxed tone.

"Yeah," Brittany agrees enthusiastically. "Alcohol, music, dancing. There is really no better combination. Maybe we could even get you two boyfriends."

Her words throw me off and I'm once again glad Quinn is there to save me. "I'm actually seeing someone but we could try to find someone for Santana. What do you say, S?"

_So much for having my back, Fabray._

Not prepared for the question in the slightest, I can only nod awkwardly in response before directing my attention to my hands in my lap. What the hell is Quinn trying to do here? Not that I'd ever say it out loud, but she is a smart person and I honestly trust her with everything. I'm sure she has a completely valid reason as to why she just threw me under the bus like that.

A heads up would have been nice though.

Neither of them seem to notice my discomfort and conversation remains on the topic of the party, which they both get pretty invested in it. If I weren't so distracted by everything that has just transpired, I'd probably be excited that the two of them were getting along so well. My thoughts, however, are stuck on Brittany and I remain silent.

Tomorrow will definitely be interesting.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, or put this story on alert!


	5. Chapter 4

**SPOILER AND TRIGGER WARNING:** There is a scene in this chapter and the next that include the topic of rape. It's not mentioned in much detail, especially in this chapter, but I just wanted to make sure everyone knew so you could avoid reading if you so wish. If you want to read the rest of the chapter and not that part, you can pretty much read everything up until the last few lines.

* * *

"You're up early," Brittany greets me as I enter the kitchen the following morning.

She's right. It is only 8am on a Saturday but the city is already very much alive if the sounds of traffic coming from outside are any indication. Who knew people actually woke up this early on the weekend?

"Yeah," I mumble, rubbing my tired eyes. "I figure I should probably take Quinn out to see the city while she's here. She leaves tomorrow so this is really the only chance I'll have."

Honestly, I feel bad. We would have had an entire afternoon to do things yesterday if I hadn't dropped the Brittany bomb on her so I need to make it up to her today. I'm not sure how much we'll be able to get done in only a few hours but this is New York. You could spend an entire week here and not even begin to scratch the surface.

At my words, I see a look of sadness pass across Brittany's face and I'm slightly confused before my eyes dart down to the uniform she is currently wearing. Is she disappointed she can't spend the day with us?

"We'll still see you tonight at the party, yeah?" I ask in hopes to lift her spirits.

"Duh," she smiles, opening the fridge to grab an apple. She totally wants to spend time with me. A small victory dance is in order as soon as she's out of eye sight. "I really have to go now but I'll see you guys later. Have fun."

She leaves the room but quickly turns around to remind me to take Quinn to see the ducks at the park. Only after a pinky promise, assuring her that I would never deny Quinn of that experience, does she finally sprint out of the apartment so she won't be late.

Today is going to be a good day, I decide.

…

"This is your break, Q. You can't spend the entire weekend worrying about me and my problems. Lets go explore the city," I say after not so gracefully waking her up by jumping on top of her, something she did not seem to appreciate.

"Fuck off, Santana," she whines, trying to roll over but my weight on top of her won't allow it.

"Nope. You had all last night to sleep, now it's time to go out. If you wanted to sleep away the weekend you could have stayed back in New Haven. I rarely ever get to see you so you better get your sweet ass out of bed."

She lets out a few unintelligent sounds before pushing my weight off of her so she can stretch. "I hate you," she mumbles, but pulls herself off the couch regardless.

"Britt had to go into work early so it's just the two of us this morning, I thought we could go our for a bit. I know you probably think you're all cultured and shit after studying at a school like Yale but this city is something you need to experience first hand to truly appreciate," I tease. "Is there anything in particular you wanted to see?"

In her sleepy daze, she just shakes her head back and fourth before excusing herself to the bathroom to get washed up. Neither of us are really into all that touristy shit so I figure I can show Quinn a different side of the city, a less chaotic side. Not that I'm an expert, not by any means, but in the two months since I moved here I've managed to find a few places around I know Quinn will love.

Maybe spending a day out of the apartment will prove to be a good distraction for me as well.

…

Layers of clothes cling to our body to keep us warm on this cold October morning. As we walk, Quinn tells me how she recently got into photography and uses her new camera she received as a graduation gift from her mother to take some pictures. She hasn't shown me any of her work but with the focus on her face every time she lifts that camera to her eye, I can't help but believe they're amazing. It is Quinn after all, what isn't she good at?

"So, what's with the haircut, Fabray? Was it some initiation ritual?" I ask, motioning towards the short hair blowing in her face. It resembles a mane and when that realization crosses my mind I have to hold back a laugh.

Snapping a quick picture of my face before answering, she laughs loudly at the angered look on my face. I threaten to smash the camera on the sidewalk beneath us but I can't help but smile.

"No initiation thing," she finally replies. "I just thought I needed a change. New city, new look. It just seemed like the logical thing to do. Besides, I kind of like it. It makes me feel more me."

"Thank you, Barney. Is that what 100 grand a year is getting you?" I tease. "But honestly, Q, you seem happier. I don't know how to explain it, you just do."

"Is that a compliment from Santana Lopez?" she teases back. I just swat her with my hand before we continue out walk in silence.

This is why I like Quinn. She can keep up with me. She understands me in ways no one else ever has, or has ever cared to. She knows I can be a cold hearted bitch but she loves me for it, or despite it. One of the two.

"You too," she says a few minutes later.

Turning to look at her, confusion written all over my face, I ask what she means.

"Happier. You look happier than I ever remember."

…

"C'mon, just one picture. You've taken like a million of me, why can't I just take a single picture of you?"

Clutching her camera closer to her chest, she starts walking away. "Because I know you, Santana, and I know it will never be just one picture. You also have a tendency to break things that aren't yours and frankly, I don't trust you with my baby."

"Shut up, Q," I huff, following after her. "I broke your laptop once during freshman year and I haven't been able to live it down. That was four years ago!"

She lets out a loud, sarcastic laugh which I do not appreciate before continuing. "And what about my desk chair you broke when we were 12 or the lamp when we were 10? Or, how about the goddamn bed you broke last year? You have no idea how hard it was explaining that one to my parents, especially since I still have no sweet clue how you managed it."

"Neither do I," I try to defend myself. "I blame the manufacturer, there is no way simply sitting down on a bed could cause it to basically shatter."

"Exactly," she stresses, "which is why I don't believe that's what happened. One of these days I'll get the truth out of you."

Over my dead body.

"Whatever," I huff, "you're just deflecting. One picture, that's all I'm asking and I promise to wear the strap around my neck so I don't drop it."

She looks like she's actually considering my offer so I reach my hands out in front of me to egg her on. "Fine," she huffs, reluctantly placing the camera in my hands. "But if do so much as breathe on it I will tell Brittany about your uncle Jesse Halloween costume when we were 8."

I feel my face begin heating up even with the cool wind brushing them "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," she smirks.

Wanting to prove her wrong, I take the camera from her with as much caution as I can muster before placing the strap securely around my neck. The semi-terrified look on Quinn's face is actually quite amusing to watch and, as I take a few steps, she almost has a full fledged panic attack.

"Are you going to smile or am I just going to have to permanently record this look of absolute terror on your face? Cause, let me tell you, it's pretty fucking hilarious."

"You're an ass," she says, annoyed. "Just take the stupid picture and give me the camera back."

"Nope," I smirk. "Not until you pose. I was thinking you could sit on those benches or something. Maybe lie across them or something."

"This is not funny, S." I beg to differ. "This was a terrible idea, just give it back to me."

*_Flash_*

"Santana."

*_Flash_"

"Give it here."

*_Flash_*

Quinn is too terrified to run after me when I'm holding it so after each picture her face just grows more and more annoyed. "Smile, Q."

"This isn't a joke. Give it to me right now."

"Yes, mom."

*_Flash_*

"Shit," I say in a worried tone, looking down at the camera in my hands.

"What the fuck did you do?" she practically yells, pulling it off my neck to inspect it. "I swear to god-"

But I cut her off when I can't hold in my laughter anymore. She is so fucking gullible.

"Fuck you," she says, smacking me in the side. She's trying really hard to act angry but she soon joining me in laughter. "It's not funny," she repeats, her actions contradiction her words.

"Yeah, you think that," I laugh. "Just wait until you see those pictures. They will tell a different story. You think you could print me a copy of those? They could make a nice wall piece. _The Evolution of Anger,_ that's what I'd call it."

Hip checking me as we continue our walk, the both of us can barely contain the beaming smiles on our faces. I really missed my best friend.

…

Hours later, we turn onto the block where the apartment is located. A feeling of disappointment passes over me as I see it in the distance, almost regretting leading us back here. It's been months since I've gotten to spend a day with Quinn, and now it will probably be months until it happens again.

Suddenly, an idea comes to me as I spot the coffee shop where Brittany works. Grabbing Quinn by the arm, I guide us both into the small building with the promise of a free coffee of her choosing.

Once inside, Brittany immediately spots us, smiling brightly before returning her attention to the customer she was previously serving. My gaze stays locked on her until a hard nudge in my side gets my attention.

"Seriously?" Quinn asks with arched eyebrows, signaling towards Brittany. She tries to act annoyed but I can see the start of a smile begging to spread across her face. Sticking my tongue out at her, I ask what she wants. "Just a hot chocolate," she tells me before leaving to find a table for the both of us.

For the past few hours, my mind has been distracted. Walking around town, talking with Quinn, watching others around me. But now that I'm alone my thoughts begin to resurface. Yesterday seems to have made everything feel so much more real. Before, when I thought about Brittany I could always sort of talk myself into believing it was just a weird phase, some fantasy that I would never act on because there was nothing there. All the cliché things people try to convince themselves of when they go through a panic like this.

Now things are different. They're real and as I watch each individual in front of me order, my palms get sweatier despite the near freezing temperatures outside.

"Next," I hear a voice call, bringing me back to reality, and I quickly step up to the counter.

Much to my chagrin, the person I'm met with isn't the blonde I was hoping for. Instead, standing in front of me is a six foot tall, pimply teenager with so much fat on his stomach that it could easily make enough soap for the guys in Fight Club to retire.

Just as I'm about to give the boy a verbal smack down for practically drooling on the counter while ogling at my breasts, Brittany butts in, instructing him to help another customer.

"Hey," she smiles, "figured you were about two seconds from making Dan cry so I thought I'd save him."

"Oh, so you only came over here to protect him. I thought it may have had something to do with me," I say playfully. What the fuck am I doing? Is this flirting? I think I may be flirting with her and doing a terrible job of it.

"Of course you had something to do with it," she smirks with a wink. Wait, is she flirting back? "So what can I get you?"

"Uh," I stutter, trying to force my brain to work again so I can tell her our order.

"Oh, Quinn's with you?" she asks after I'm finally able to remember our order, telling the boy from earlier to make the two drinks.

"Yeah, we've been walking around all morning. The cold was finally starting to get to us so we decided to stop in here to warm up."

"You do realize that our apartment is only like 10 minutes away, you could have been home in the time you were waiting in line."

"Yeah, but you're coffee is so much better here."

"I bet," she whispers before turning to check on the progress of our drinks.

Nerves are something I basically thought to be mythological up until recently, I am a Lopez after all. But as I watch her walk away I can't deny the feeling of butterflies in my stomach. It's must be fucking matting season or something in there.

It's not just today either. Lately I've been feeling them more often and I've realized for the first time that I'm not invincible nor immune to uncomfortable situations. There is something about Brittany that makes me nervous. She's just a person, just an ordinary girl, so I shouldn't be afraid to talk to her. I think half of the problem is the fact that she's a she.

I hate that it bothers me.

There is also something about her that doesn't exactly make her so ordinary in my books.

Rocking back and fourth nervously on my feet as I wait for Brittany to return with our drinks, I turn my head to try and find Quinn. Through the small crowd in the coffee shop I manage to spot her sitting at a table towards the back, her eyes looking straight back at me. The smirk on her face leads me to believe that she saw at least some of the interaction between Brittany and I. My cheeks instantly begin to heat up. In an attempt to slow my blushing, I turn back to the counter, this time a little less eager for Brittany to return.

"These are on me," Brittany says as she returns, placing the two cups on the counter, "and don't even think about paying. I owe you for that first time you sent me out for coffee."

Knowing there is no way for me to win this one, I pick the two cups up and, though I don't want to, begin walking towards Quinn.

"My break starts in like 5 minutes. Would you guys mind if I joined you?" Brittany calls after me and a smile instantly forms on my face.

"Not at all," I answer a little bit too enthusiastic for my liking but she just smiles back and moves on to the next customer in line.

During the walk to the table, I can feel Quinn's eyes burning into me and I look up to see the smirk still plastered on her face. "What the fuck do you want, Fabray?" I ask in a snarky tone, taking a seat across from her.

"Nothing, I just-" she starts but just shakes her head back in forth. Instead of properly answering me, she pulls her camera from her neck, maximizing a photo to show me.

"What the-"

The picture on the screen is one of Brittany and I that she must have taken while we were just talking. I'm ready to go off on her about personal space and privacy evasion when I notice something about the photo. It's not that it's of brilliant quality, not by any means as she had to take it from so far away, but even so you can still see the smile on both our faces. Brittany's bright blue eyes are focused directly on me, flashing with something I've never seen in them before and, for a split second, I consider the possibility that she may actually be looking at my lips. The photo just looks so natural. I need to get a copy of this picture as well solely because it may be the only picture of the two of us I ever get.

Just as I'm about to comment, the camera is quickly pulled away and Brittany is suddenly pulling out the chair next to me. "Hello," she sing songs, plopping down on the metal seat.

Shit, if Brittany's going to keep showing up at moments like these, she'll certainly know something's up by the end of the day. Even Quinn is surprised at her arrival and awkwardly greets her while placing her camera back to her lap.

"So, what were you guys looking at?" she asks, taking a small bite out of the peanut butter sandwich she must have brought from home.

"Just some photos I took today," Quinn chimes in. Thankfully she's found her footing and saves me once again.

"Y-yeah," I add. "She hasn't stopped since we left the house. I'm sure she's managed to get all of my bad angles," I say jokingly, trying my best not to sound too awkward.

But the serious look that passes over Brittany's face shows no sign of a smile. "You don't have any bad angles."

The sincerity of her tone cause her to blush but she looks back at Quinn before she can see it. I hope.

The two soon get completely lost in the abundance of photographs Quinn has taken throughout the morning, thankfully skipping over the one she showed me, and then the three of us fall into easy conversation. Well, the two of the do and I sit there awarding adding comments every now and then.

If I could see this moment three months ago, Quinn, Brittany, and I seated around a table, laughing at pictures and just casually drinking coffee together, I would have never believed it. More so, I wouldn't believe the emotions going through me right now. The nervousness mixed with complete excitement and adoration.

It's such a strange feeling being here with them both considering mine and Quinn's conversation yesterday. I feel almost vulnerable and that's not a pleasant feeling for me. When people know things about me, it makes me feel weak and, right now, I feel exactly that. Quinn is trustworthy and I don't doubt her loyalty for a second but there is still always a slim change that something can slip out and then I have no idea what I would do.

As time passes, it gets easier for me to join in on the conversation. That is, when I'm not distracted by Brittany's smile or laugh. I really need to get a grip.

"I'm going to a friends place after work to get ready for the party so I'll see you there," Brittany tells us, cleaning up her mess, and with a quick hug each she's soon on her way to the back of the shop.

"Do you believe me now?" Quinn asks excitedly as soon as we exit the building.

She doesn't even have to elaborate for me to know exactly what she's talking about. Do I think Brittany could possibly think about me the same way I do her?

I actually don't know the answer to her question and I tell her as much. On one hand, I want to believe her, to believe that the photo and the slight flirting is evidence enough to believe she feels something. But then there's the other foot, the more realistic one which forces me to think rationally and realize that Brittany is a naturally affectionate person. I've seen her be like that with Rachel and, while she may not flirt with Rachel, she may have only been doing it with me to see how I would respond. Friends can tease each other like that.

"You have it so bad, S," Quinn teases but there's such a truth to her words that I can't bring myself to deny them.

"Shut up," I retort halfheartedly, shoving my hands into my pockets. I can't even come up with a decent comeback. What is happening to me?

Everything just seems like it's happening too fast. Last month I'd never theorized about falling for another woman before and now I'm basically reduced to a babbling mess every time I'm around the girl I used to bully in high school. None of this makes any sense at all. I just need some time, time to get my thoughts straight and figure out what the fuck is happening.

I still don't even know if I'm gay.

…

After an hour of relentless searching for the perfect outfit, a meltdown where Quinn basically had to pull me off the floor and convince me to get dressed, and two shots of tequila, Quinn and I find ourselves walking through an unfamiliar home full of drunk college kids.

The party has apparently started, if the state of the crowd is any indication, so we quickly make our way to the kitchen. The few shots we took before leaving have left me feeling slightly buzzed but not near the level I need to at be right now.

As I'm mixing two drinks for us, I realize how strange it feels to be doing this again. Back in high school, cheerleaders were basically expected to attend all of the parties held by any member of a sports team which basically meant every single Friday and Saturday night. Aside from the one I put off a few weeks ago, this is the first party I've been to since arriving in the city. College is not how television made it out to be, there was way to much crap to do to have time to party every night.

"Sup ladies?" comes a slurred voice from behind us and I turn to see this huge, asshole-ish looking guy standing there, drink in hand. This is one of the things about parties that I really didn't miss.

Ignoring him, I turn back to the now finished drinks and hand one to Quinn as we try to weave our way through the crowd. He calls out a few more times but we ignore him and I start looking out for Brittany who texted me a while ago telling me she was already here.

She spots us first and pounces on us from behind. By the smell of her I can tell she's already had a few drinks but she still manages to maintain her bubbly persona, only amplified. When she turns towards lead us to the dance floor, I can't help but shift my gaze to her ass. Damn, does she look good in that skirt. She really should wear them more often.

After downing our drinks, Quinn and I dance around Brittany as she completely steals the spotlight from everyone around her. I've seen her dance numerous times in glee and maybe I paid more attention than I ever let on, but I've never seen her dance like this. My eyes can barely focus on anything but her body and I'm terrified that I may give myself away so I quickly start a conversation so I can concentrate on something other than her swaying hips.

"Where's the hobbit?" I ask her. "I figured she'd definitely be here, she seems to tag along with you everywhere else."

Shrugging her shoulder while she continues to dance, she replies. "Rachel doesn't like parties. She thinks drinking will cause her to make a fool of herself and she hates being around smoke because she doesn't want anything to mess with her singing abilities."

"Too bad," I say, growing more comfortable. "I'd like to see a drunk Berry."

"I have a video of her drunk somewhere. I'll show it to you sometimes," she offers, taking mine and Quinn's hands into hers to guide us further into the crowd. "Just don't tell her I showed you."

My comfort level only grows from there and I soon get lost in the music and the people.

…

The three of us dance a for a few songs before the makeshift dance floor starts to get a little too crowded for my liking and I excuse myself to get another drink.

Filling up my cup, I quickly down it before pouring myself another.

From my place in the kitchen, I have a clear view of a group of people dancing, more specifically of Brittany dancing with said group. Unlike earlier, I don't have to force my eyes away and I can actually enjoy the view which is pretty incredible. Watching her dance is mesmerizing, the way her hips sway and feet move almost makes it look effortless to her. As I watch her grind against the guy behind her, the dancing turns from mesmerizing into an incredible turn on and I can't help but imagine what it would feel like to have her body pressed up against me like that.

Just as I'm about ready to run out and join them, I feel liquid pour over my feet and look down to realize that I completely forgot about the drink I was pouring while watching Brittany.

"Fuck," I curse under my breath, looking around the kitchen for the napkins. Okay, bad idea. The room suddenly feels like it's spinning and I'm about ready to barf.

"Whoa," I hear a voice say and two hands gently hold my arms to steady me.

When my eyes can finally focus, I can make out the face in front of me. "Britt," I whisper. How did she get here so fast?

"You okay?" she asks, sounding concerned. Before I can stop myself, my head is nodding up and down, causing the room to start spinning again.

"Okay," she says, slowly guiding me to a chair to sit on. "You should really drink some water."

Moving swiftly around the kitchen, she's soon in front of me with a glass in hand. Deciding she's probably right, I gulp down the entire glass as quickly as possible.

"Are you having a good time?" she asks and for the first time I can hear the slur in her voice. How can she manage to be so graceful while drunk? I'm like fucking Bambi on ice and she can still dance better than everyone else in here.

"S'okay," I reply, trying to hide my slur as much as possible. I should definitely stop drinking for the night.

"Have you met any nice guys yet? Some of my dancer friends are pretty cool and-" she starts, more than likely trying to take my mind of the fact that I'm almost too drunk to walk.

"No," I cut her off. "Guys are pigs."

"No they're not. I mean, yes some of them are fat but that's no reason to call them pigs. Besides, pigs can be cute and stuff. Except when the roll around in mud and poop."

"Gross."

"Gross? I thought you might want a boyfriend. You seem pretty lonely at times and I thought you might like someone to spend your time with."

"You don't like spending time with me? Am I too much of a burden?" Damn it. I've always been a weepy drunk but I was really hoping I could keep myself in check tonight. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of Brittany but tears quickly begin burning my eyes.

How could ever have thought we may have a chance when she can barely stand being around me?

Fuck, I made her life miserable for years and now I actually expect her to like me.

What the hell was I thinking?

Nobody ever likes me.

Why can't I control the tears streaming down my face?

Everything just really sucks right now.

"No, no, Santana," she soothes, rubbing my shoulders. Unable to think straight, I lean into her body and wrap my arms around her waist. It's an awkward angle, with my head pressed into my stomach, but at the moment it's comforting. "I like spending time with you, you're my friend. But I'm not home a whole lot between school and work. I thought you might want someone to have around when I'm not there, someone to make you not so lonely."

Sniffling, I pull my head back to look into her eyes and am immediately met with complete sincerity. "Really?" I ask, unable to hide the pathetic hopeful tone in my voice. "We're friends?"

"Of course," she replies, ruffling my hair. The same hair I spent forever getting just right but I can't bring myself to be mad at her. When she offers me her hand with the proposition of a dance, I can only grin widely and accept.

On unsteady legs, we both make our way through the crowd. Brittany leads the way, her hand still locked tightly around mine, and we make it to the dance floor just as a new song begins pounding loudly through the speakers.

Every detail about the moment is completely amplified despite the alcohol running through my system. Seeing Brittany in front of me, hearing the music in my ears, the tingling sensation where her hand meets mine, trying my best not to look like a fool as I dance with the hottest person in here. Everything is heightened to a level I've never experienced before.

Then Brittany turns her body so her ass is perfectly placed in front of my crotch and I'm certain I'm about to explode at any moment. With practiced skill, she gently presses back against me, closing the small space between us. I'm stuck standing still as I watch her grind back into me, wanting nothing more than to join in but unable to move or look away.

Is this really happening?

I'm not sure how long I just stand there letting her dance on me but as soon as I get my bearings and place my hands on her swaying hips, I feel an electricity pass through my body. At this point, I'm certain people must be watching us but I can't bring myself to care because the heat boiling in my stomach proves to be the perfect distraction.

Feeling brave, I guide my hands up her sides, over every single perfect curve. She is so hot like this, hotter than usual which is pretty hard to beat, and I just want to touch her everywhere. Take her to the closest bedroom and pull her clothes off.

Wait, what the hell am I doing?

Panic quickly begins to take over my body and the room begins to spin around me once again. Without an explanation, I quickly bolt from the dance floor as quickly as possible. Not entirely sure where I'm headed, just knowing I want to find some place quiet where I can be alone, I wind up bursting through the back door of the house onto a small, wooden deck. As the cool wind hits my lungs, I feel myself begin to calm down.

That is until I hear the door open and slam closed.

Not wanting to turn around for fear that it may be Brittany, I ignore the other person's presence. I can hear shuffling coming from behind me but I just close my eyes and breathe in the air.

The second I feel two large arms snake around my body, I push them away and quickly make a distance between me and the other person.

"What, babe?" a deep voice says, "I won't hurt you. I just want to get to know you a little better."

Opening my eyes, I see the guy from earlier standing there. For fuck's sake, he's worse than a god damn boomerang. The harder I push him away, the faster he comes back.

He reaches his arms out towards me again and I quickly swat them away, subsequently knocking the filled plastic cup out of his hand.

"Feisty, I like that," he chuckles and I scoff.

This is exactly what I used to go to parties for back in high school. With my reputation, I needed to maintain a certain status and having guys come onto me definitely made it easier to keep it. I wish I could still want to make out with this guy, maybe fool around a bit, but the only thing on my mind is Brittany.

So many things have changed since I've moved here, my life has basically done a complete 180 in the past few months, but I can't help but wonder how much of that change is actually change and how much was always there, just hidden out of clear sight.

Maybe it's a last ditch effort to get some normalcy back into my life, maybe I'm trying to push my thoughts about Brittany away, but I feel my body lean forward to press against his. The alcohol delays his reaction time but as soon as he registers exactly what's happening, he presses forward as well and brings his hand to my chin to raise my face to meet his.

I know this is a bad idea, I knew it even before I let him kiss me. His lips are dry and the taste of alcohol on his breathe is sickening. Willing myself to enjoy it, I guide us to a small bench at the corner of the deck. Maybe if I don't have to stand on my toes to reach his mouth this might be slightly more enjoyable.

"Fuck," he mumbles through broken kisses. "Taking control, I like that in a woman."

Now, along with his smell and taste, I also have to block out the sound of his voice. Perfect.

The air seems to grow colder as time passes and my extremities are almost numb. I try to press closer to him to steal some of his body heat but he just takes it as a sign that I want more so he brings his hand down and harshly grabs my ass.

"Fuck off," I mumble before pushing his arm away and reattaching our lips.

As much as I hate Lucas, or maybe he said his name is Lance, I'm not sure, but as much as I hate this guy I still can't bring myself to go back into the house. In there is where Brittany is. In there my actions are completely out of my control and that unpredictability terrifies me. At least out here, I'm the one in control and this guy is completely under my command. In there, a simple look from Brittany can send me into complete madness.

After seeking comfort on my ass, and being rejected, multiple times, his hand finally finds a place in my hair which I doesn't really bother me as much as I thought it would. People playing with my hair has always been relaxing for me and I feel a calmness fall over me at the touch.

If this guy who is probably the biggest turn-off in history can make that action feel nice, I can only imagine how it would feel if those were Brittany's hands moving gently through my long strands. Would she be gentle or would she grab a handful in the heat of the moment?

What about if her perfect lips replaced his crusty ones? He's not necessarily a bad kisser, I've definitely kissed a lot worse, but just from watching Brittany's lips I can tell she's amazing. The sweet taste of her lip gloss mixed with her own unique flavour, I can't help but moan at the prospect of experiencing that.

My eyes shoot open at the sound and I'm instantly pulling back from Lance. Bolting up from the bench we were sharing and barging into the house without a word of explanation. I hear his voice calling out to me from outside but I can't be bothered to listen to what he has to say.

Lucas is a big boy, he can deal with his situation himself. I'm sure he has lots of practice.

As I push my way through the crowd, the only thing running through my mind is Quinn. I need to find Quinn.

When I don't see her in anywhere on the main floor I reluctantly head upstairs. As a walk down the hall, I see all of the bedroom doors shut so I turn to head back downstairs when I hear a voice saying what sounds like stop. Leaning closer to get a better listen, I immediately hear a slightly louder plea for someone to stop. This time it's loud enough for me to recognize the voice and I barge into the room.

"GET OFF OF HER!" I yell. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"


	6. Chapter 5

You guys are incredible. The response to last chapter was unreal so thank you all so much for your feedback! It did leave me feeling a little weary posting this chapter though, only because I don't want to let you all down but I hope it lives up to your expectations. It's also the longest chapter yet.

Also, just a reminder that the **warning** from last chapter still applies so if rape isn't a topic you feel comfortable reading about, you can skip this chapter. This is probably the last time it will get brought up in this story.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

* * *

"_YOU FUCKING BASTARD, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"_

Quickly, he lifts his body off of the petite girl beneath him before grabbing his shirt off the floor and fleeing. Normally, my Lima Heights temper would make an appearance about now but I'm too preoccupied with the sight before me to even register my anger.

Clad in nothing but her bra and skirt, Brittany is passed out in the middle of the bed. Her long hair splayed across the black bed sheets, a striking contrast to the lightness of both her hair and skin. As I move closer, I can see the inflamed skin around her wrist where he must have been holding her down and her make-up stained cheeks.

The fucker made her cry.

That just about does it for me and my hands start violently shaking from the anger boiling inside of me as I try to wake her up. I need to make this better right now, I need to get her away from this god forsaken place.

She only mumbles a few incoherent words at my touch before falling back to sleep so I decide to at least get her dressed so I can take her home. My eyes quickly dart around the room, searching for something to cover her with, when I spot the shirt she was wearing earlier in the evening.

"What's the matter?" a panicked voice asks from the doorway, startling me. I turn to see Quinn standing there. "I was in the bathroom and I heard you go crazy, and," she pauses for a minute, her eyes quickly scanning over the scene in front of her. "What happened?"

"Some psycho tried to fucking rape her, that's what happened!" I almost scream, turning to grab the shirt from it's place in the dark corner.

God, damn it! He didn't even have the decency not to rip it.

Whatever, I need to get it on her right now.

Bringing my hand to my face to pull my hair from my eyes, I feel the tears I didn't even realize were falling and wipe them away before turning back to Brittany. I hastily try to pull her shirt down her body but she's still out cold and I don't have the strength to hold her up and pull it down at the same time. Tears have now pooled in my eyes, blurring my vision, and I can't fucking get anything to work. My frustration makes me cry harder and Quinn is soon by my side, holding Brittany steady and we manage to finally get her shirt on her right.

_Finally._

I slide to the floor, defeated, as Quinn lays Brittany back onto the bed before sliding down next to me. God damn tears, I curse, wiping my eyes again. I pull my legs close to my chest and shut my eyes together tightly, trying my best to block out everything around me right now. This cannot be happening.

"It's alright," Quinn says rubbing my back, "she's okay now. You got to her in time. You saved her, S."

"I shouldn't have to fucking save her Quinn!" My eyes, filled with anger, shoot open as I spit out the words. "Guys are such douche bags. How could someone take advantage of someone as sweet and innocent as Brittany? I mean, she would never hurt anyone! What kind of soulless person would even think about doing this? Fucking animals, all of them."

"I know," Quinn agrees, knowing it will calm me down. "Guys can be dicks but we can't think about that right now. Now, all that matters is that she's safe and we need to keep her that way. Do you think we can wake her enough to get her into a taxi?"

She's right. There is nothing more we can do in this moment and a nice quiet room with a warm bed may be the best thing for her. Letting out a sigh, I give her a nod and allow her to help me onto my feet so we can get Brittany outside and into a taxi.

So much for a fun night out with friends.

…

For the second night in a row, I roll around restless in my bed.

Though my body begs for sleep, my mind refuses to shut up long enough for that to happen. Images of Brittany thrown across the bed bombard my thoughts, the sound of her pleas fill the silence of the darkness. My mind constantly flirts with the _could haves _and _would haves _of the situation, making sleep much more difficult. What if I hadn't found her? What if she had drank one more drink and was already unconscious by the time I made it upstairs? Without her cry, would I have even checked that room? What if I hadn't freaked and ran off on that guy? What if I decided not to even go to the party?

It's all too much to think about and I honestly don't think I can handle it right now. Trying to force myself to believe it's over doesn't work, telling myself she's asleep and safe is no more comforting.

My mind is still in shock and, whenever I think about it, it's as though I'm watching it through a television screen.

Disconnected, like I wasn't even there.

I've only felt like that one other time in my life and, much like tonight, it isn't a fond memory. It was Christmastime, the day after school had let out for break, and my parents had gone out to a party. My brother was old enough to stay at home but they decided it would be best to leave me with my abuela for the night, which was basically the best thing in the world to my 9 year old self. She's as strict as they come but I was the first granddaughter so she's always had a soft spot for me, letting me get away with things my cousins never could.

Anyways, we had been playing for hours, everything from house to cops and robbers, and only after countless stories and songs did she finally manage to get me to simmer down enough to go to bed. Tucking me in, gave me one final kiss, and then left to go downstairs to the living room. All I remember after that is hearing a crash and then seeing my grandmother in a pile at the bottom of the stairs.

I ran to her side and leaned in as close as possible to her. She kept whispering for me to call 9-1-1 but my brain, for some reason, couldn't comprehend that. Only after a few minutes did everything click into place and, as though someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over me, I was running through the house in search of a phone.

The feeling is so surreal that I don't even know how to begin describing it. You feel helpless because you are right there but have no idea how to help. You feel guilty for not being of more use. You feel scared fucking shitless because someone you care for is hurting and you can't do anything for them.

That doesn't even begin to cover the level of fear which passed over me as I barged through that door tonight. I've always known my abuela to be strong, I knew she could get through anything life through at her because to her it was like water off a ducks back. But with Brittany, I was terrified. She hasn't been dealt the easiest lot in life, as far as I know, and she doesn't deserve anything bad that happens to her. She is strong but I fear that she lets others influence her far too much, allowing them control only she should have.

The bullies shouldn't always win.

As I lay there, I also listen to the silence incase Brittany needs me. If I'm losing sleep over this and I only walked in on it, Brittany will most definitely take it a lot worse if wakes up with any recollection of what transpired. The only thing she has going for her right now is that she's had more than a few drinks and, while it was a factor in tonight's run in with that asshole, that may help her get a good night's rest before everything comes back to her.

I keep searching for that state of unconsciousness until the first bit of sunlight comes seeping through the blinds and I give up completely, rolling out to the living room to watch some television and hopefully get my mind off things.

I chance a glance in Brittany's room, the sight of her sleeping granting me much relief, before turning out into the living room. When I get there, however, I see Quinn asleep on the couch so I opt to go for a walk instead. A run is out of the question because of my exhaustion but some fresh air might do me good. Changing into a pair of sweats and an old hoodie, I silently slip out of the apartment and let my feet take me away.

They say you can't run from your problems but I'm sure as hell going to try and walk away from mine, at least for now.

…

Passing houses blur together, street signs grow more and more unfamiliar, my feet become heavier with every step.

Apparently I'm not in the best condition to be walking because my grogginess is completely distorting my perception of everything around me. At least it gives me something else to focus on for a few minutes. When you have to concentrate on not tripping up in your own feet, thinking about anything else proves to be a little difficult.

Before I realize it, I'm standing outside of a small, vacant neighborhood park. Trying to best to open the rusted gate without waking the entire street, I make my way to the swings and sit down. I can't even muster up the strength to begin to push.

I try thinking about normal things, things that don't involve walking in on your roommate being taken advantage of. Things like the grades I'm awaiting to receive or my biology lab result. Maybe I should get a job so my parents don't have to spend so much money on me. Even the thought of my parents could maybe divert my train of thought away from the exact thing I wish to ignore.

Much to my dismay, none of these prove to be a viable distraction and the fresh air does little to ease my mind. Because of the early hour, much less noise fills the air than I would have hoped for and I realize I'm screwed.

Without my undivided attention focused on staying upright, my thoughts wander back to Brittany without any conscious effort.

My biggest concern is how much she remembers about last night. She was pretty out of it so I'm hoping the details will be blurry but if she doesn't remember anything Quinn and I will have to tell her and I have no idea what her reaction will be. Honestly, we don't know much to tell her.

Personally, it would drive me bat shit crazy if I wasn't able to remember certain details. Just knowing that there were periods of time completely unaccounted for, where the only person to care for me was some freak who wanted me naked, would terrify me to the point where I'd track people down and demand answers. But I know Brittany and she would never do anything like that though, she has much more self control than me.

If living with her, and becoming her friend, has taught me anything about her, it's that she likes to see the best in people. Those who walk over her, talk down to her, slushie her. No matter what, she's right there to see the brighter side and accept any apology thrown her way. I fear this will be another chance someone has to walk over her without any repercussions.

This guy doesn't deserve her forgiveness. Even if he does apologize, though I won't hold my breath waiting for that day, what he did is a complete violation of her rights and her body. I have make sure she understands that and I have to make sure it never happens to her again, I need to. Honestly, I cannot see myself being at ease if I know she's out on her own, I just feel like I need to protect her from people like this. How can I possibly do that if I'm not there?

Suddenly, my phone starts ringing and I pull it out of my pocket to see Quinn's name across the screen. I also notice the time and it's close to 9. I've already been gone a few hours.

"Hey Q," I say as casually as I can.

"_Seriously? That's it? I wake up after a night like last to find you nowhere in the apartment, no note anywhere, and you start with 'hey Q'?" S_he sounds angry but I can tell she's keeping her voice low. Brittany must still be asleep. _"Where the hell are you?"_

I look around to try and find a street sign to no avail. "Just some park a few blocks away, I needed to clear my head," I explain. "Is Brittany up yet?"

"_No, she still seems pretty solid to me. She's going to be in for a rude awakening when she does get up though. I'm surprised she's made it through the night without emptying the contents of her stomach."_

"That's disgusting. I was thinking about stopping by to get some coffee and bagels to bring back for breakfast, do you think you could get her up by the time I get back? I think we need to talk with her about last night, see what she remembers, and the sooner the better because you're leaving today and I don't think that's something I can do alone."

"_I'll try, but she doesn't really look like she's ready to get up."_

"Just try. I gotta go, I'll be home in a bit," I say before hanging up the phone and standing up. My head feels kind of dizzy at first so I stand still until it goes away. Once it feels relatively normal again I head out of the park, trying to retrace my tracks back to the apartment.

…

40 minutes later I'm knocking on the front door, having left my key in my jacket. I try to knock lightly, not knowing whether Quinn managed to get Brittany up or not, but a disheveled Brittany answers the door and, in turn, my question.

"Morning sunshine," I say, walking into the house. "You look lovely this beautiful Sunday morning." That only earns me a grunt and I can't help but laugh. "How're you feeling?" I ask seriously, placing the bag of bagels and tray of coffees on the kitchen counter.

Brittany, who is now in the kitchen, just shrugs in response and takes a seat. It's that moment that Quinn decides to make an appearance, still clad in her pajamas, and she takes a seat next to Brittany. I want to ask her if anything happened while I was gone, if anything has been brought up yet, but there is no way to do that without Brittany hearing. Catching Quinn's eyes, she manages to give me a half smile which I have no idea how to interpret. C'mon Fabray, use some signals here.

I take the bagels out, laying them on a plate, and place it in the middle of the table along with the coffees. Everyone begins to eat but a strange tension hangs over the room, not that Brittany is aware of it because she is too busy stuffing her face like she hasn't eaten in weeks. I watch her closely for any sign of what's going through her mind but she gives nothing away, keeping her eyes and mouth locked on the bagel in her hands.

For the entire time we eat, no one says a word, but as I take the last sip of my coffee I know what I have to do.

"So how much of last night do remember exactly Britt?" I try to bridge the subject as broadly as possible. I see Quinn's attention peak and she gives me a reassuring smile before her gaze fixes on the other blonde.

"Not much," she admits, "I mean, I was really drunk if this is any indication." She gestures to her body.

"I need you to really think about this for me. Do you remember anything at all? Any specific details? Were you with anyone, any strange, creepy looking guys hit on you?" I ask, not really being subtle about my dislike for the guy I found her with.

"Why?" she asks almost jokingly but closes her eyes in thought nonetheless.

Quinn and I share a few worried looks, not really sure if we want her to remember or not. When her mouth falls slightly agape, eyes opening wide, I know for certain she remembers at least some small detail.

"Crap, what happened?" her voice wavering slightly as she speaks the words. "I mean, I was drunk and there was this guy who just wouldn't lay off and-oh god."

"Nothing happened, Santana got there before he could do anything," Quinn interjects after noticing the panic growing on Brittany's face.

Brittany's eyes quickly dart to mine, holding their gaze there. Her face visibly relaxes, softens as though she is trying to thank me without the words, but that level of fear is still evident. I feel as though I should say something, warn her that anything could have happened to her, that she can't be so reckless, that it would kill me to know that something happened to her while I was in the same house without my knowledge. But I can't seem to find the right look to express my relief or worries, to tell her just how much I actually care about her well being. Instead of a verbal response, I give her an assuring smile, one which I hope conveys everything I wish so desperately to tell her.

Once again, my silence gives Quinn no other choice but to speak up. I tentatively watch Brittany's face as Quinn explains the situation to her, seeing each look of shock and passing glance of discomfort. Every now and then I add certain things I can remember, I was the one who found her after all, but seeing her get so upset just makes me feel horrible for even bringing it up.

"I, ughh," she starts, completely lost for words after we finish telling her as many details as we can remember.

Seeing her like this, upset and just completely afraid, makes me feel so fucking angry that there are people out there who would do this to innocent girls but I manage to control myself for Brittany's sake. She's already distressed enough, it's not my place to vent and make her even more uncomfortable.

What happens next confuses me though because, as I watch her shift awkwardly in her chair, I catch myself fighting the urge to lean over and hug her, offer some type of comfort just as Quinn did to me not two days ago. But I'm not sure if that's what she needs right now and I don't want to overstep.

I fucking such at comforting people.

"I-I'm gonna go to bed," she finally mumbles, standing from the table. After a few promises that she's fine and will let us know if that changes, she's out of sight.

Instead of feeling disconnect, right now I don't think the moment could possibly feel more real.

…

When Brittany spooked off to her room she must have called Rachel because less than an hour later she shows up at the apartment, cookies in hand. I don't know why she feels as though cookies can fix everything in life but they do seem to calm her as she nibbles on one while I brief her on exactly what happened, telling her any details Brittany may have left out or forgotten.

With a hug of gratitude and the gift of a cookie, she heads to the back of the apartment into Brittany's room.

As I watch her walk away, I fell something inside of me that I hate myself for. I know it sounds selfish and self-centered and conceited and ever other imaginable synonym for the word but I'm jealous of Berry. I know they're best friends and shit but I was right here, why wouldn't she talk to me?

Letting out a loud sigh, I flop down on the couch and watch Quinn pack her bag. She looks over at me, worriedly, and all I can muster is a halfhearted smile in return before sinking further into the couch and closing my eyes.

Exhausted is not even a strong enough word to describe the state of my body right now. Physically, mentally, emotionally, everything about me just feels about ready to give in and give up. These have been the longest, most stressful days of my entire life and I just wish it would be Monday already. I've had enough of this weekend.

…

"Don't you think we should focus on Brittany right now? It seems a little insensitive to be talking about me," I practically shout, turning my attention back to the laptop in front of me.

Shortly after Rachel left, Brittany decided she wanted to take a nap for real this time so I shied away to my bedroom to deal with all my running thoughts in complete solitude. More like use the distraction of the internet to ignore them, but same shit. My plan worked swell for a grand total of five minutes before my best friend came barging into the room, bombarding me with questions I didn't care to answer about Brittany.

"Why are you so hot and cold? Ever since I got here it's like you're two different people. One minute you're confessing everything to me and the next your walls go right back up." She sounds frustrated but I refuse to look up at her.

Her hand suddenly pushes the screen of my laptop down, almost slamming it onto my hands, and I yell at her. "What was that for?"

"Finally, something that gets your attention. You need to get your shit together and figure this out. Yes, Brittany's had a hard night and, even though she seems fine right now, she still might need someone to be there for her and you have to be that person. You can't let whatever you have going on stop you from helping her." She sounds like my mother scolding me for failing a test or something, but then her expression changes. Her face softens and she pushes the laptop away, taking a seat where it was. "But you also need to help yourself, and allow me to help you. We have two hours until my train leaves and I need to know that you'll be okay before I go."

"I'll be fine, Q," I tell her, trying my hardest to convince myself that it's the truth. "I just-I need time. I promise you I will be okay though, and I'm going to make sure Brittany's okay too."

"That's all I ask," she smiles and I can't help but return the gesture. "Can I just give you one piece of advice?" I shrug, signaling for her to continue. Although I'm not one for listening to others, she has proven herself these past few days so any extra advice she has couldn't possibly hurt. "You can't expect her to wait for you. I can tell she likes you but she believes you're straight and she's too nice to try anything that will put you in an awkward position. Other people are going to notice her and she's going to move on. If you want this to become anything you have to make the first move."

Instead of a verbal response, I avert my eyes to my hands. Honestly, I know everything she's said is completely accurate but the timing just seems really bad right now with last night and everything. Brittany really doesn't need anything added to her plate.

There is also the highly likely chance that Quinn is completely wrong in assuming Brittany feels anything for me. She's a really affectionate person and she probably only sees me as a friend, Quinn just misinterpreted it for something more. If I make the first move and she turns me down, I seriously don't know what would happen. It's not only the fact that I've never been turned down before that has me weary, though the thought of that would have sent me running a few short weeks ago, but that I actually like this girl as a person. Things would probably go back to being awkward around the apartment if I put my feelings out there and she didn't reciprocate, we would lose all of the progress we've made so far. She's a great person and I don't want to risk losing her from my life.

But I also don't want to risk her finding someone else. She hasn't had a girlfriend, at least to my knowledge, in almost a year but I think she wants one. She hasn't brought home anyone random since I walked in on her, although that may be due to the embarrassment, but I've seen her leave the apartment dressed up a few times recently. Dressed up for dates, potentially. Non-casual, sit down dinner dates that are intended to lead somewhere.

So I'm too chicken shit to ask her out but I also don't want her to be with anyone else. Well then.

I need to come up with the perfect way to try and figure out whether she has romantic feelings towards me, a way so subtle that if it turns out she doesn't like me back she won't be any the wiser about my true intentions. Maybe if I just sort of bring up in conversation that I'm curious about things she might hint at whether or not I have a shot with her. It's worth a try at least.

When my eyes meet Quinn's, I can tell she is truly concerned about me and it makes me feel vulnerable again. She's never seen me like she has this weekend, so pitiful and reliant on her. She must hate knowing she has to go back to school without everything being solved.

"I'll be okay. I think I do need to talk with Brittany though, there are some things I think she could help me with."

Her concerned look quickly changes to a smile and she wraps her arms around me. The way we're sitting makes it awkward but I couldn't care less right now as I practically melt into her embrace. Besides Brittany, and Rachel by association, I haven't really made any good friends since moving to the city and I almost forgot how good it feels to have someone there for me.

We sit there long enough for me to completely lose track of time, not saying anything, just enjoying the others company and I can't help but frown as she pulls away and looks at the watch on her arm. I've only just gotten her back and now she's leaving again. She came though and, even if I didn't know it, it was exactly what I needed. Now I know I have someone to call when I need to talk about things without the fear of judgement.

She says she should get going and I offer to walk with her but she insists she can find her own way. When I start to argue she plays the Brittany card, insisting that I stay in case she needs something or wants to talk, and I reluctantly listen. Brittany emerges from her room to say goodbye and, with one final hug, Quinn's out the door.

As soon as it shuts behind her, the room goes silent again. Brittany starts to head towards her room so I follow her, asking if she wants to talk. This morning she made it very clear that she was okay and would just need some time to process everything but I wasn't buying it. She still seems off to me and I know it isn't the hangover doing it to her.

"I actually have to go into work in a bit, but it's only for a few hours, we can talk when I get back if you want?" she offers, her face emotionless.

"It's cool," I tell her and head back to my room, making sure she knows to call if she needs anything. She needs to get this sorted out so she can move past it, so I can move past it because there is no way I will ever forget.

…

The next few hours pass relatively slow as I wait for Brittany to come home. If this were any other day, when school work was piled high and chores were begging to be done, I would kill to have a few hours to myself. Right now, however, I can't seem to be able to bring myself to relax.

I have absolutely no clue what the hell I'm going to say to her but I know we can't just shove this under the rug and never speak of it again. She needs to know it's okay to be scared, that it's okay to cry and be upset because this is pretty fucking upsetting. She deserves to know she has people she can come to if everything becomes too much because I know that she's the type of person who would be there for me if I ever needed someone.

In no way am I prepared to deal with this but I know I need to prepare myself because I actually want to help her. I may not know exactly what it is she needs but there is no way I will leave her alone during this. Even if the only thing she needs is someone to take her mind off of things, I will be right there to help.

By 9 o'clock I've managed to pull myself out of my room and into the living room where I'm now pacing across the floor like a crazy person. This feels like a make or break moment, as though however I handle this will somehow determine where our friendship goes from here, and I'm slightly terrified at the prospect of my bad advise leading to the end of one of the only good things in my life right now.

Quarter after I hear her at the door and instead of meeting her there, I take a seat on the couch. My legs bounce up and down uncontrollably so I place my hands on them, trying to dull the motion, but it doesn't work.

"Hey," she greets once she gets to the room and my eyes look up to meet hers.

She looks exhausted, with bags under her eyes and a lack of pep in her step. I ask if she wants to just go to bed but she insists she's ready to talk. She takes a seat next to me and just stares, waiting for something to come out of my mouth.

"I know you don't really remember much but I just wanted to see if you were doing okay. You're not exactly yourself today and I kind of miss the old you," I say softly to let her know that I'm being sincere. "Is there anything I can do to make this better?"

"Not really, I mean nothing happened," she shrugs, brushing it off. "I appreciate what you're trying to do here but I'm okay. You protected me, Santana, and there isn't much else I can ask of you. Although it might make me sad to think about it, I can't dwell on something that didn't even happen."

"But something did happen! Some asshole touched you against your will. You could have been- it could have ended really badly." I feel myself begin to get worked up. My words coming out quicker and my voice getting just the slightest bit higher. Knowing this is nothing like what she needs, I calm myself down before continuing. "I just need you to talk to me if you remember anything or get scared," she nods but it's not enough for me so I stick out my pinky to her. "Pinky promise?"

"Pinky promise," she repeats, taking my pinky in her own. To her pinky promises are like God's word so I know she's not lying to me. "I'm really glad you were there, it's kind of scary to think about what would have happened and I just-just, thank you."

I can tell she's scared, who wouldn't be, but now I know she is more like my abuela than I originally thought. She's been through hard times before and she will undoubtedly experience them again but Brittany is strong enough to move past them. Her character only benefiting from the experiences.

"It's going to be okay though," she assures me. "When things like this happen, you just have to look on the positive side. I'm fine. I'm not hurt, you're not hurt. Thinking about what could have happened won't make this any easier to deal with and I promise you that I'm okay. I'll have a good nights sleep and, by morning, I'll be back to my usual self," she says, squeezing my pinky tighter to let me know she isn't lying. "This is just a lesson that I need to be more careful. Next time, nothing will happen because now I know the consequences."

"I will never let anything like that happen again," I assure her, trying to convey just how much I mean those words. "And I promise to kick that dude's ass if I ever see him again."

"That's something else I should thank you for," she says with a shy smile. "I've never slept with a guy and I don't plan on changing that anytime soon. So thank you for saving me from that experience, I guess."

Although she said it to lighten the mood, it causes all my nerves from my earlier conversation with Quinn to reappear and words just start tumbling from my mouth before I can control them. "You've never been with a guy? How do you know you're a lesbian then?"

I know it's the wrong thing to say as soon as the words leave my lips but I can't take it back. Brittany seems to let the rudeness slide and fires a question back.

"In that case," she smirks, "how do you know you're straight? Or have you been getting your sweet lady kisses on without me knowing."

That completely catches me off guard and I wait too long to answer her, the only sounds I'm able to make are stutters. Her eyebrows arch in curiosity. "Wait, have you been with a woman before?"

"I-NO!" I exclaim much louder than necessary, needing to make sure she knows the truth. "I mean, no I've never slept with a woman, or even kissed one, but… We really shouldn't be talking about this right now. T-this night is about you, not me. Tell me everything you remember, it might help you deal with it if you say it out loud."

"That's not what I want to do though, I want to talk about this." I see the smirk still plastered on her face and feel my heartbeat begin to speed up at her words but there is also somewhat of a lighter tone to her voice that I can't help but smile at. "What was it you were going to say? But what?" she eggs me on. By the amused look on her face, I can tell she knows exactly where this is going.

My palms feel sweaty as I rub them together out of sheer nervousness. Is this really how I want to come out about this? When she's as vulnerable as she is right now and I should be the one helping her, not vice versa?

I shake my head because this is not who I am. I never wait around for things, when I see something I want, I make it mine, but this is different. I don't think I've ever been so terrified about anything in my entire life than the prospect of having this conversation with Brittany.

My eyes lock onto hers and I can finally spot the glimmer that usually resides in them, the part which has been missing all day. Fine, if she wants to talk about this, we will. It will be the perfect opportunity to take her mind off of everything and it will also give me the chance to get some things off my chest.

I take a deep breath.

"How did you know you were a lesbian?" I can't even look at her when I ask. "Like seriously, because something is going on with me and it's freaking me the fuck out. I don't know what to do about it."

My eyes close tightly, knowing what reaction I deserve but not which to expect. She should laugh at me, or maybe yell at me for being such a hypocrite. But neither are what I'm met with as I open my eyes and look up at her. A soft smile with no sign of judgment. This is Brittany I'm talking to, I should have known she would react this way because that is the type of person she is. She unlinks our pinkies and soon her entire hand is wrapped around mine.

"Well I guess I've just always kind of known," she starts, thankfully without asking any questions. Her gaze remains completely locked on mine. "I'm probably not the best person to ask really. I didn't have one of those _oh my god_ moments, I didn't even have a gay panic really. To me, looking at a girl and finding her attractive, it was the most natural thing in the world."

As much as I want to focus on what she's saying, I'm still having a hard time catching up with the fact that we're actually having this conversation right now. This is something that I've been dealing with silently for about a month or so but it's only been a few days since I've admitted it out loud and here I am, talking with Brittany about it. It just seems really strange when I think about it but I figure there is no one who could help me out more than her. For more than one reason.

"I remember back in middle school when Rachel started noticing boys. You know the way Rachel is, always talking, so almost everyday she would tell me about the boys she thought were cute. One day, she asked me who I liked and I told her the name of this beautiful girl I was crushing on and that was that, she never asked any questions or made me feel weird about it. I know Rachel is kind of like the exception because she was raised by her two dads, but her being so cool about it made me feel better about the whole thing."

As she tells the story I watch her face as it changes from a serious look to a smile and back again. There is nothing as beautiful as her face when she's smiling.

"I waited for a while to tell my mom though and that didn't go quite so well but she didn't kick me out or anything so it was okay. School was harder because kids are mean but I didn't let it bother me too much. Rachel and her fathers loved me, my mom was learning to deal with it, and that was all I needed to be happy really. I don't know how much that helps but yeah, that's pretty much how I knew I was a lesbian. I just never wanted to kiss a boy like I wanted to kiss girls. They're just so pretty, I don't understand how any girls are straight or guys gay. They don't know what they're missing out on."

For the first time, talking about this doesn't make me want to cry. The way she explains things, in such simple terms, calms me down and I have to look away from her to try and hide the ridiculously huge smile on my face. She makes things seem a whole lot better.

"How do you do that?" I ask with a chuckle. She looks at me questioningly so I explain further. "Every other time I've tried to talk about this, or even think about it really, I've started crying and here you have me smiling. It just doesn't make sense."

"I'd like to say it's because I'm awesome like that," she gives me a cocky grin, "but it's probably just because I've been through it and can relate. I was a lot younger than you and didn't really know how mean people could be but it still scared me. I also volunteered at the gay-straight alliance at McKinley so I've heard a lot of stories about it."

"I didn't even know we had one of those," I admit quietly, "but your probably right." Even as the words leave my mouth I know they're not true. She can make me smile because she's Brittany. I don't know how that makes any sense but that's the only reason I can think of.

"So who's this girl that has you asking these questions? It's not Quinn, is it?" she asks playfully.

The thought of Quinn like that almost makes me want to gag and I quickly shake my head. "Ew, fuck no. It's definitely not Quinn, just girls in general I guess," I lie again.

"Why not? Quinn's kind of hot," she tells me and I freeze. There is no way I could deal with her having a crush on my best friend. "Chill out, I'm only kidding. Kind of."

I shake my head trying to clear it of that conversation. "What about you? Any of those girls you've been getting dressed up for get a second date out of you?"

"Nah," she shakes her head, "at least we're in New York, there's always more."

With a small smile, I nod at her before my thoughts begin to wander and the reality of the situation takes over again. Like earlier, my legs start bouncing uncontrollably as my heartbeat speeds up enough that I'm sure I'm going to pass out. This happened, I told her. What's going to happen now? Everything from this point on is going to be different, how could I have been so stupid to tell her this? I'm not ready for people to know, fuck I don't even want to know. What the hell kind of drugs were slipped into my drink this morning?

The panic must show on my face because I feel her free hand make it's way to my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze and the bouncing subsides. As much as her touch calms me, it also kind of freaks me out to know she holds that type of control over me.

"I know I said I had a fairly easy time accepting myself, and I did in regards to not feeling the need to throw myself at boys and hide who I am. But I still had a hard time dealing with people knowing. It's not an easy thing to do, accept the fact that you're different. Being 12 and realizing that girls are the people you want to be kissing when the rest of the world is telling you that girls should only kiss boys, it's just hard not to feel different. I don't really like to think about it but I kind of slipped into a dark place for a while back then, not just because of the whole realization but everything else, and I think I had the potential to really go downhill."

The sadness in her voice is almost too much to handle but I don't want to interrupt. Instead, I gently rub my fingers over out still interlaced hands so she knows I'm listening. There is nothing about this girl that I don't want to know so if she feels comfortable enough to tell me these things, these personal stories, I'm sure as hell going to pay attention.

"I think I kind let it slip to the back of my mind for a while, the whole sexuality thing, so I could focus on the other problems in my life so it ended up being two whole years before I told Rachel. But as soon as I did, it was as though a weight had been lifted. I finally had someone I could unload onto, who could help me figure things out, make them seem less scary. That's why we're so close, even though basically everyone I've ever met has told me she's the most annoying human being on the planet and that I can do so much better. I trust her with my life and she deserves every bit of it."

Every word that comes out of her mouth is completely genuine and I can't help but believe she isn't telling me this to make me feel better. She knows what this feels like, this complete uncertainty and fear. Just knowing that, in being different, I have someone close to me to be different with is reassuring. Maybe this is something I can handle, something that doesn't have to be such a negative thought. Maybe her help is all I need.

"I don't usually tell people that part," she admits shyly, bringing a smile to my face. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I can help you. If you're gay or bi or just confused I can be that person for you if you want, someone who can help you figure things out and accept whatever it is you need help with. I promise, I'm a good listener."

Any simple words of thanks would be meaningless right now. Telling Quinn about this was one battle, but telling Brittany was something completely different. I almost feel liberated right now.

She gives my hand a gentle squeeze before standing up. "I'm really tired so I'm going to go to bed but if you want to talk anymore, I have tons of awesome advice to give. And I promise not to tell anyone about you possibly being a unicorn, or a bicorn."

I'm still trying to figure out what she means by that when I feel the light pressure of her lips on my head. My body tenses at the touch, heat rushing to my face, and I search hers for an answer but she just smiles at me again before turning to leave. I hate that she always makes me blush so to get back at her, I ask her something.

"Britt," I call, causing her to turn around, "who was the girl you liked in middle school, the one in your story?"

My plan works and I watch the slight blush cover her face. "Are you sure you want to know?" she asks and I nod, smirking at her. Her eyes meet mine and she says "it was you," before walking into her bedroom.

Did that ever backfire. I'm left in the living alone, looking like an idiot with my mouth hanging half open. Was she being serious or was she just teasing me? Either way, she's making it a whole lot harder to push away these feelings. When I'm finally able to think straight, I get off the couch and practically run to my room, picking up my phone to call Quinn, I need her opinion on this.


	7. Chapter 6

"Not that I mind but I can totally see you checking me out," Brittany smirks, causing my eyes to bulge and my face to flush.

We're both in the living room, Brittany sprawled across the floor in only a tight pair of dance shorts and tank top, studying, and me on the couch, obviously not watching the reality show that's playing in the background. It's been a few days since Quinn left and, despite my fears, not much has changed around the apartment. A few nightmares have sent me flying into Brittany's bedroom in the middle of the night to comfort her but I'm usually able to calm her down fairly quickly. She seems to be doing a lot better.

Surprisingly, I'm doing better as well. Like Brittany said, getting your thoughts and feelings out there is very cathartic, I can't help the proud feeling inside of me from knowing I confessed everything, well, mostly everything. I don't even regret telling her.

That is, until right now.

"I-uh, I was-" I try to defend myself but it's pointless, she caught me. The adorable smirk she's giving me doesn't exactly help me find the right words either.

Her smirk changes to a smile and she starts to laugh at my inability to string a coherent sentence together. "It's okay, I would totally be checking me out too. I look hot."

If anyone else besides Brittany said that, it would come across as cocky but for some reason, she makes it work.

"You do," I try to be bold. My voice wavers as I say it but two can play at whatever this game is she has going on.

A cocked eyebrow from Brittany lets me know it worked and I mentally give myself a pat on the back for having some guts around the girl for once. What I'm not expecting, or prepared for, is her prying herself from the floor and taking a seat next to me on the couch, conveniently getting as close as possible without actually touching. My breathing quickens and I'm pretty sure I can actually hear my heartbeat in my ears.

"You think I'm hot?" she quickly changes from a playful tone to a more seductive one and whatever boldness I was feeling has been shot out the window. _Jesus_. Nobody has ever help this type of power over me. This girl is going to be the death of me, I'm certain of that.

I don't know how to respond to her question so I shift my eyes away from hers, only to have them land on her lips. Bad idea. They're plump, not as much as mine, but they look so soft and I can't help but wonder once again what it would feel like to kiss them.

I must stare for too long because Brittany puts her hand on my chin to raise my head until I'm looking into her eyes again. "You can kiss me if you want." It's so quiet that I'm not sure if I imagined it or not but I feel something build in my stomach nonetheless. "It wouldn't have to mean anything, if you don't feel anything it can be a one time thing-"

Another surge of boldness takes over me and I cut Brittany off by covering her lips with my own, surprising both her and myself.

I'm fucking kissing a girl.

When I finally register that, my body doesn't pull back as I expected it to. Instead, I continue the assault, basking in the feeling of her lips moving against mine.

She hasn't pulled away either. That must count for something.

My brain is too busy to think about the implications of that, focusing completely on the lips pressed so tenderly against mine instead. The feeling is familiar, yet completely foreign. Kissing is kissing but she is the first girl I've ever kissed and there are so many things that are different about it than kissing guys. Brittany is gentle and her lips are so god damn soft and addicting. I wonder if this is how it feels to kiss any girl, maybe it's just something specially reserved for those lucky enough to kiss Brittany. All know for sure is that this is something I would not be opposed to doing again.

By far it's the most tender and calm kiss I've ever experienced, in the best possible way. She takes her time, allowing me time to get comfortable, and doesn't press for anything more than I'm willing to give. Nothing is rushed but I go to deepen it because I need to taste more of that strawberry flavour that must be her lips gloss.

The heat that rushes over my body is unexpected but welcome and, when I feel her hand run through my hair, I let out a small moan. Kissing her makes me feel invincible, it makes me forget how scary this whole thing is, and it allows me to actually enjoy everything about the moment.

She is exceptionally talented with those lips.

All I want is to be closer to her so I try leaning forward, hinting for her to lie back on the couch. Lying on top of her would mean even more contact and a shiver runs through me at the thought.

When I try, however, she pulls back. "What the-" I start but stop when I see her face. She looks afraid almost but before I can ask her what's the matter she takes my hands into hers and squeezes them gently.

_Shit_. What did I do? I mean, she offered to kiss me so she can't be upset. She probably wasn't planning on me practically jumping her bones though. _Damn it_, I screwed up.

Awkwardly, I sit up on the couch and slide as far away from her as possible. "I'm s-" I start to apologize, but she abruptly cuts me off.

"What's your name?" she asks seriously and I shoot her a look of confusion. What the fuck is she getting on with? We've been roommates for months, classmates for years, she obviously knows who I am.

"Seriously Britt, what kind of question is that? You know my name."

"I know that I know your name, San," she giggles. At least now I know she's not mad. "I just need to make sure you know it. So again, what's your name?"

At this point, I'm curious to what she's getting on with and I also really want to get my mack back on so I answer her. "My name is Santana Lopez."

Her face relaxes slightly but she's still not kissing me. "And what are you doing right now?"

"Well I'm trying to make out with you," I smirk with a chuckle, "but you seem to want to play twenty questions or something."

At this point she's practically beaming and I can't help but smile back, even if I have no idea what's going on.

"I had to make sure you were fully conscious and aware of what was happening," she explains, her giddy expression changing into a slight frown. "I know I said this didn't have to mean anything, and it doesn't, but when people freak out at me the day after we do things it makes me sad. I don't like being sad and I don't want you to be sad so I need to make sure you know that this is actually happening. If you get upset and leave now it will hurt a whole lot less than if you yell at me tomorrow."

Without thinking, I bring my hand up to palm her check and trace my fingers along her jaw line. She's usually such a happy person and seeing her like this throws me for a loop. I hate seeing her sad and I hate that other people have made her sad. I mostly hate that I could make her sad.

"I'm not going to freak out on you, not now, not ever," I tell her truthfully. My thumb mindlessly rubs small circle patterns on her cheek. "I'm still afraid of what this means but I know that it feels right. Nothing in my life has ever felt this right Britt, nothing. This is not just a phase for me and I can promise you that I'm going to do my best not to hurt you."

I know what she's going to say next before the words even graze her lips and I extend my pinky out in-between us.

Nothing else happens between us after that, we don't even kiss anymore, but it all just feels right. When I lie in bed later, thinking about the whole thing, my body instantly warms up. A few months ago the thought of kissing a girl would have scared the shit out of me-actually, I would have never even let the thought cross my mind-but now I'm giddily smiling about it like some idiot and that doesn't even upset me. I'm happy, actually happy for once in my fucking life and I have Brittany to thank for that. I don't care what my parents or my friends think, I know what I want to do. I need to ask her out on a date.

…

The next morning, I call Rachel and ask her to meet me somewhere so we can talk. To say she was surprised is an understatement but I know how close her and Brittany are, hell I'm even beginning to consider her one of my best friends, so I have to make sure things are okay between us. We don't always see eye to eye and I'm usually a pretty big bitch to her but I need her to know that that's just who I am and that it's nothing personal.

I also want to ask for her permission to take Brittany out. Yes, it sounds ridiculous, believe me I know it does, but I can't screw this up so I'm covering all of the bases.

She asks if we could meet at the NYADA campus considering she is, and I quote 'a very busy woman with a demanding schedule that allows her very little time for socializing'. Whatever, I have no problem with it and I figure we can get this done in a few minutes if she can manage to keep her mouth shut long enough to let me speak.

"Santana," I hear her voice call before I see her. Spinning on the grass, I turn to see her propped up against an old tree. She's wearing what looks to be a dress from the 1800s but I just shake my head and sit next to her. Sometimes it's better not to ask questions.

"I'm rehearsing for a play this afternoon, hence this outfit, and I only have an hour for break so I ask you take as little time as possible with whatever it is you wish to speak about." Look at that, didn't even have to ask and I got all the details. Imagine what she would have spewed out if I had.

"Fine," I say simply. I'm not sure if my nerves or her annoying tone makes me regret ever coming in the first place. But I'm here, might as well get this over with. "I like Brittany and I want to ask her out on a date."

I watch her face contort as she searches for a response to that, I guess Brittany really was telling the truth when she promised not to tell anyone about me. I really should have taken a camera with me to film this because it's fucking hilarious. She starts to speak a few times but never manages to actually get a sentence out, just a few incoherent sputters. I eventually give in and save her. Despite popular belief, I am not and terrible person. Besides, I figure she deserves a proper explanation.

"I know this is probably a shock to you but I've grown up a lot these past few months and Brittany has helped me do that. She's made me realize how important it is to be true to yourself and I admire that about her. We've talked about this a bit and I'm pretty certain she won't be blindsided by me asking her out. I just wanted to see if you were okay with it, you being her best friend. I know I'm hard on you and give you a lot of shit but I care about you." It comes out with more sincerity than I was expecting. "I know I have a fucked up way of showing it but you mean something to me and it would mean a lot to me if you agreed to let me ask Britt out, not that I wouldn't anyways but it would be nice to know I have your support."

The words feel awkward on my tongue. When do I ever grovel for someone's approval? Hell, when have I ever wanted it? As much as I want to believe I would be fine even if she didn't agree with this, I know it would be a lot harder asking Brittany out if I knew her best friend did approve.

"Santana I-I really wish you didn't have to be so vulgar but that was sweet nonetheless," she replies with a smile. "I know you're not the same person you were in high school and, even though it may take me a little while to get used to it, you have my blessing to ask Brittany out. I'm honored you even thought to ask me even though it was unnecessary."

I give her an awkward smile, glad that this entire encounter is over, and push myself up off the ground so I can head home but Rachel has other plans.

"I'm going to hug you now," she says, outstretching her arms towards me.

"I don't hug Berry."

"I would appreciate it if you would call me by my actual name, Santana," she stomps her foot on the ground and I have to hide my amused laugh, "and that's a lie. I see you hugging Brittany all of the time."

"Yeah but," I try to find the right words to explain that but all I come up with is "she's Brittany," and that seems like enough.

Rachel smiles widely at me and it's kind of creepy. I consider running away when I see the tears form in her eyes but she grabs my arms to keep me in place.

"You really care about her, don't you?" she asks. Fucking Berry, always one for the dramatics.

"I do," I tell her, opting not to mention how ridiculous she's being. Baby steps.

She gives me a hug but pulls away before I can even register what's happening and then skips back to rehearsal, leaving me completely confused about what just happened. The main point, really the only point of the entire encounter I wish to remember, is that Rachel is behind me asking Brittany out.

As I begin the journey back home, I realize that there is only one thing left to do. I've already worked myself up to it, I've told my best friend and hers, I've tested to the waters to figure out if I have even a sliver of a chance. The only thing left to do now is actually go through with it and ask the question.

…

Instead of stopping once I get to the apartment, my feet continue to take me down the street until I'm standing in front of the coffee house where Brittany works. I haven't had the chance to see her since last night and I'm having a really hard time getting her, and her lips, off of my mind. Maybe if I just stop in to say a quick hello my mind will settle down.

Conveniently, it so happens that she gets off in less than ten minutes. Not that I know her schedule or anything.

"What are you doing here?" Brittany practically beams as she spots me. Quickly sipping out from behind the counter, she makes her way across the mostly empty room until she's standing just in front of me.

Shrugging, before I'm met with two strong arms wrapped around my body, I almost melt into her embrace. I had no idea how much I wanted to see her until right now.

I don't tell her that, however, and settle for the cop-out response that I was just in the neighborhood. Either she doesn't catch on or she's actually happy to see me, but the smile remains on her face as she fills me in on her day at work.

"You want to do something today?" I ask, leaning over the counter she has slipped back behind. "You're off in a few, right?"

"Of course," she replies, leaning forward. _Fuck_, her lips look really good this close. "Did you have anything in mind? Because one of the girls here was telling me about this huge flea market just around the corner. Apparently they have like everything so I was kind of hoping to stop by after work. It's totally cool if you have something else you'd rather do."

"No, no," I tell her honestly. I just want to spend some time with her. "It sounds cool. We could really use a few more things to decorate the apartment. The bare white walls are really starting to get to me. It looks like a fucking insane asylum."

"Maybe we could paint them," she suggests, before walking away to fill the order of the only customer current in the store.

"Sorry, Britt. That was a part of the rent deal, no painting."

"That sucks," she says, handing the coffee to the customer before turning back towards me. I nod in agreement but it's probably for the best that the two of us aren't left alone with cans of paint. I have a suspicious feeling that most of it would not end up on the walls. "We could just get some really colourful pictures to hang around."

"Sounds like a plan."

With a glance at the clock, she pulls the apron from her body and tells the others she's leaving. Offering me a donut, I gratefully accept and we both munch on them as we head outside, the cool air greeting us as we leave.

As we walk, our hands knocking together every so often at our sides, I start thinking about last night again. It was amazing, Brittany was amazing, and I don't regret it for one second. I just wish that she hadn't had work this morning so we could have stayed up later to talk about it. I know I could bring it up now, that I probably should, but it just feels kind of awkward. I mean, she hasn't brought it up. Maybe she didn't enjoy it as much as I did.

Letting out a sigh, I rub my numbing hands together to create some heat. I shouldn't think like that. At least, not until she's given me any indication that I should.

"Were you telling the truth last night?" I ask, breaking the silence. She just looks at me with a confused expression so I explain further. "About liking me in middle school."

I've been thinking about that story for a while now, curious as to whether or not she was telling the truth. Not that I doubt her word but I find it hard to believe she actually liked me like that all those years ago. I was a bitch to her and, when I wasn't picking on her, I was tossing slushies at Rachel or just flat out ignoring them both. To me it just seems like she made up the story to make me feel better, maybe embarrass me a little.

"Yeah," she says, the appearance of a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. "Is it weird that I told you? I probably should have kept that to myself but you asked and I suck at lying."

"Why?" Is all I can ask.

"C'mon, Santana," she laughs, the air leaving her mouth visible in the cold air. "You have be joking. You are absolutely gorgeous, always have been. Even back in middle school when everyone else was going through that awkward, puberty stage you still looked breathtaking. How could anyone _not_ have a crush on you?"

She turns forward again, looking at street signs to figure out in which direction exactly we should be walking, but my eyes stay trained on her, taking in every single detail from her rosy cheeks to the way her steps have suddenly quickened. Even though it's freezing out, an unexpected warmth falls over me.

...

"San, look at this," Brittany exclaims, pulling my attention from the hideous rug I was looking at.

I have to get her to call out a few more time so I can track her down in the piles of stuff but I soon find her down an aisle filled with musical instruments. Her head is moving back in fourth quickly, admiring everything, a smile firmly stuck on her face.

"You have to get something here," she beams, pulling me further down the aisle. "You love music but I haven't even heard you sing since we moved in together."

"I don't know, Britt," I muse, bring my hand to touch the guitar in front of me. "I don't think our neighbors would appreciate my singing very much."

"They totally would. You sound awesome," she says with a smile.

At her words, I let out a sigh and turn to look at the other instruments, at an angle which conveniently takes my face out of her line of vision.

I really do love music, I always have, and I miss it more than I would ever admit but I promised myself that I would never pursue it after high school. Glee club was fun and all but it's not a reality. Musicians are disposable, there are more of us around this city than not, and I need to go to school to get a real job. A career, something I can make a living of.

For fuck's sake, my parents are like Lima's resident power couple so there is no way their only daughter can have anything but the perfect job. If I'm a doctor, or a lawyer, or even a god damn accountant, at least they'll have something to be proud of. It could also help in other aspects of my life. My perfect career will allow me leeway to make other mistakes, like if I ever need them to bail me out of jail or I end up in a same-sex relationship for example, though I only plan on ever doing the second one. Having that job will be something for me to fall back on. I can screw up in any other part of my life because the thing they have always told me was that I needed a good career and I'll work my ass off for the next few years to ensure I have that.

Running my fingers gently over the keys of an old piano, I almost hate myself for making that promise. I allow myself to picture it in our apartment for a moment, only a couple seconds. It's been months since I've played so I'd probably be a little rusty but it wouldn't matter. As naturally as possible, I would play out some slow ballad as Brittany danced behind me, giving it everything she has. It would be the perfect moment.

"Have you found anything else you liked?" I ask dryly, trying to change the direction of this conversation. "I still have my dad's credit card and we could probably swing anything we buy into looking like essentials for the apartment."

Giving me a questioning glance, probably trying to figure out why my mood has seemingly done a complete 180, she shakes her head back and fourth. "And you don't have to buy me stuff, San. Even if it is your dad's money."

We make our way out of the aisle and, with one final glace at the piano, towards the door. "I just feel bad that you always have to work so much while I just sit around and let my parents buy me things."

There is some truth to that answer. I honestly feel like crap whenever I go into Brittany's room, seeing the mattress on the floor and the same emptiness from the first morning, or when she rushes out of the apartment without eating to get to work while I lounge around all day, doing shit all. I just wish I could make things easier and the simplest way I can think of is by buying her things.

"Can you wait just one sec?" she asks suddenly, feeling around her pockets. "I think I left my phone inside."

Before I can comment, she's sprinting back towards the building and I'm left standing alone. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I stand there awkwardly.

_Damn_, I think it's gotten even colder.

For a Sunday, the streets are pretty full with crowds of people moving in each direction. As I watch them pass, I wonder if any of them are in the same place as me right now. Unsure about everything in their lives except one thing, one thing they are so sure of that it's scary. For someone who's so innocent and sweet, the thought of Brittany can sure terrify the living hell out of me.

If I was different, maybe I would approach one of them. Maybe I'd try my hand at small talk and see if they could help me out. This city is enormous, there must be someone around that's in the same boat as me right now. Or better, someone who has already experienced it from beginning to end. Someone who could offer me some insight as to where to go from here.

At least this time, for the first time in my life, the overwhelming feeling of being drowned doesn't scare me. For the first time, I'm actually willing to fight back and swim.

"Sorry," Brittany pants, running to my side. "It must have fell out of my pocket. We're good to go now."

There's a small smirk on her face but I don't question it. Instead I just smile back as we make our way down the street. I know there are still some things we need to talk about and one particular question I need to ask, but I don't want to ruin this moment with any of that. I'd rather enjoy this time with her, just the two of us, and not let my pissy mood or overactive brain impact it.

…

"_Please tell me you're calling to tell your best friend you finally plucked up the courage to ask Brittany out," _is how Quinn greets me through the phone later that night.

"Not quite yet," I tell her, "but I'm gonna do it soon. I'm just waiting for the right moment."

"_Or your balls to drop, one of the two_."

"QUINN FABRAY," I shout, not used to hearing her say things like that. "I think you've been corrupted. That school must be doing a number on you, not even hanging out with me could get you to ease up."

"_Whatever,_" she laughs. "_But seriously, S. there is never going to be a perfect moment, you know that. Just pluck up the courage and ask her out_."

She makes it sound so easy.

"Like you've ever done it," I say, almost annoyed that she doesn't see how much I'm trying here. "Boys swarm to you, they ask you out. You don't have to deal with all of this bullshit and nerves. You're a Fabray."

"_You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, Santana. So shut up_," she warns.

She used my full name which should be a sign that something's not right. In my state, however, I don't catch on and start picking a fight with her. "I think I know perfectly well what I'm talking about. Little Miss Princess can have any boy she wants without fear of being rejected by them or her family. Just admit it, Q."

I'm venting now. Everything, all the stress and anxiety, is finally coming to face and Quinn is just in my line of fire. She's used to it though, I've been doing it for years and she's never complained before. She know I need this. It's is the alternative to being vulnerable and I would much rather people see me like this than weak.

"_At least you didn't show up at her place only to be greeted at the door by another woman,_" she huffs out. "_Another tall, beautiful, sexy woman_."

"Shit," falls out of my mouth. I was not expecting that. "Quinn, I'm sorry," I stammer, feeling like an absolute asshole. I really need to learn to keep my emotions in check, especially around those who are actually on my side. "What happened?"

"_Just that. I got back from New York and there she was. I never agreed to be exclusive with Matt, no matter how often he asked, so I shouldn't have been so upset about it. I was just kind of shocked, that's all_."

And like that, I know I'm forgiven because she's talking to me but I also know I'm not getting the entire story. She doesn't want to talk about it right now but the second she's ready, she'll call. It how things always are with her, it's how our dynamic works.

"_Just don't chicken out because seeing her with someone else will hurt like hell,_" she advises, hiding her sadness surprisingly well.

"Y-yeah," I stutter out like an idiot. "Do you want me to come down or anything? I might be able to sneak away for a weekend or something."

"_I'm fine,_" she says and it actually sounds believable, "_or I'll be fine at least. My friends here can take care of me if I have a breakdown, though I doubt they'll be as good as you,_" she laughs. Why would she ever make fun of my awesome comforting skills? "_We'll see each other Christmas though, right?_"

"Absolutely," I smile.

"_Well, I should go. I'll talk to you later._"

"Yeah. You sure you're going to be alright?" I ask.

"_Yes,_"she says with a laugh. "_I was never really that into him in the first place. Just don't forget what I told you and make sure to call me as soon as it happens."_

"I will."

…

Two lectures, a test, and three labs later, I finally stumble into the apartment after the day from hell. The smell of chicken meets me at the door and I'm immediately intrigued. Dropping my bag, I make my way into the kitchen where I see Brittany in an apron dancing from the oven to the table, placing the trays of food there on a red table cloth I've never seen before. It looks suspiciously like a date setting.

"Hey," I call, grabbing her attention. "Are you having someone over? I can leave if you want me to." I try to hide the sadness in my voice but it's pointless.

After a day like today, I really just wanted to come back home and hang out with her for a few hours. Have a nice relaxing night in and maybe watch a movie or two with my friend. Now do I not only have to make myself scare, but I also have to deal with the fact that I waited too long and she's gone out and found herself someone new. Fucking perfect.

"No, silly," she assures, walking over to me with a smile on her face. She grabs my hands and leads me to the table where she pulls out a chair for me. "I made this for you, like for us."

A sigh of relief escapes my lips and her infectious smile creeps onto my face, as she quickly removes her apron to take the seat across from mine. I look down at the food in front of us and am unsure of where to start. It all looks so good and I honestly can't remember the last time I had a home cooked meal.

When I scoop the potatoes into my mouth I'm pretty sure I let out an audible moan but I'm not even embarrassed, they taste so good and I tell her. "Seriously Britt, these are awesome. How did you learn to cook like this?"

"It's nothing," she says shyly, rolling the peas around her plate out of nervousness. "I just did most of the cooking back home, I guess I just got good from the practice. I'm glad you like it though."

Her voice wavers when she mentions Lima but I let it slide. She still hasn't spoken to me about anything regarding home and I still haven't asked. I decide to not let it ruin dinner so I continue eating and giving her compliments, which I learn she is not very good at taking.

Conversation comes easy with her and we soon get lost in our own little world, talking about anything an everything that comes to mind. Back in high school, I always had friends, or at least people I considered to be my acquaintances, but Quinn was the only one I felt I could be myself around.

It's only now that I finally feel that comfort level around someone else. Brittany makes me feel safe, she makes me feel like I can effortlessly make her smile or laugh. I can basically say whatever comes to mind without her judging me for it. It's a comforting feeling, being around someone like that.

When the meal is done, Brittany gets up to start clearing away the dishes and no matter how many times I offer my help, she insists on doing it alone. She at least lets me bring them to the sink but as soon as I lay them down she's ushering me out into the living room area.

I go without protest because apparently I'm whipped.

"You want to watch a movie?" she asks and I give her an eager nod. I'm not quite ready for this night to end just yet. "Pick one out and I'll be back in a few minutes. Just nothing too scary."

As I wait for her to finish in the kitchen, Quinn's words from her visit play over in my head. Brittany is too nice a person to put me in an awkward position and as much as she may want this to be a date she will never ask. She knows how confused I am right now and she doesn't want to rush me. She's always looking out for everyone else and never herself.

This plays over in my head as we watch the movie, her on one side of the couch and me on the other, and soon I can't resist the urge anymore.

"Go out with me," I blurt during the middle of some club scene and her head whips to look at me. She looks confused and I'm not entirely sure if she heard me. God, I'm such an idiot. "Will you go out with me? Like on a date," I repeat, scanning her face nervously with my eyes.

The movie is quickly forgotten as she engulfs me in a hug, repeatedly saying yes into my ear, and I feel a rush of relief pass over my body. When she pulls back, she looks at my face as though she's searching for something. I can't believe I just did that.

"You sure you want this?" she asks. "It's not too soon is it? Cause I can wait longer if you need more time."

I shake my head, reassuring her that this is exactly what I want.

"Good," she beams, "because I've wanted to ask you out so bad but I didn't want to scare you off. I was starting to think you were moving on."

"Nope, you're the only one I want." I cringe at how cheesy that sounds but she just smiles and playfully sings a few lines from _Grease_ so I decide it was worth it. What couldn't she get me to do with that smile?

"I have a confession," she says, pulling back shyly. "I pretended that tonight was a date for a little while."

"I did too," I admit.

"It felt nice."

"Imagine what the real thing will feel like," I chime, shuttering at my own words. I have to make sure this date is perfect, better than she could imagine.

She smiles in return and cuddles into my side as we watch the rest of the movie in silence.


	8. Chapter 7

Seven days have never passed so slowly yet quickly at the same time. For the past week, the only thing I've been able to think about is my impending date with Brittany and, each time it crosses my mind, it subsequently brings a new doubt or worry along with it.

I just want everything to be perfect for one night, for her and for us. It that too much to ask?

Awkwardly, I tug at the ends of my dress as I walk down the near empty hallway. Short dresses are kind of my thing, back in high school I practically lived in a cheerleading skirt that barely covered my ass, so I shouldn't feel as uncomfortable as I do right now. Though it's not really my clothing choice that's making me feel out of place, I don't think. Maybe it's a part of it but there are so many other factors. The thoughts just keep running through my head, making me question everything about this evening, as I pull the small mirror from my purse to check my makeup one final time before raising my hand to knock lightly on the door in front of me.

This is it.

Apparently Brittany told Rachel about our date, or the more likely possibility that Rachel pried until Brittany told her, whatever, but Rachel found out and somehow managed to get inside Brittany's head, swaying her to believe it would be much more romantic if her and I didn't see each other before the date. I tried to talk her out of it, explaining that only people who were getting married did that, but she was convinced. When I woke up this morning she had already left for class and by the time I got home she was nowhere in sight, only leaving behind a note telling me to pick her up at Rachel's.

And that is why I'm waiting nervously outside of Rachel's dorm room, because she has a messed up way of getting into other people's business and Brittany loves her. I knock once more, hard enough for humans to actually hear this time, and can instantly hear shuffling and whispers from behind the door. I let out a soft laugh because it's nice to know I'm not the only one shit baked about this.

The door eventually swings open and, while I'm expecting to see Brittany, Rachel's head pops out instead.

"Berry," I greet, trying to sound annoyed at her but I figure the grin on my face gives me away. I try maneuvering my way into the room but she catches me, putting her hand on my shoulder to guide me back into the hallway.

"Hello Santana, you must be here to pick up Brittany. She will be out in just a second, she has some finishing touches she would like to add."

"Cut the crap, I can see her sitting right there," I say, pointing to where Brittany is sitting on the small bed. She smiles widely at me and waves before walking over behind Rachel.

"Thanks for everything, Rach, but I think I have it from here."

She leans down to hug Rachel and it's only then I notice her outfit. A short black dress hugs her body tightly, stopping mid thigh to show off her seemingly endless legs. Her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail and with black heels to finish it off. I'm used to seeing Brittany in tight clothing, most of her workout clothes should practically be illegal, but I've never seen her dressed up like this. I guess if she can look as hot as she does in a pair of sweats and a tank top, she can look good in anything.

Even though she looks amazing, I have to force myself to look away before either of them catch me staring.

Brittany takes my hand is hers and with one final wave to Rachel, only after convincing her that she does not need to take pictures of this moment, we begin to make our way down the hall towards the exit. It's only early in the evening so the halls are fairly deserted, most students either studying in the library or partying somewhere, and I feel a calmness pass over me. The date hasn't even started yet and it already feels perfect.

"You know you don't have to keep calling her Berry," Brittany tells me as we near the building's exit. "We both know you actually like Rachel, there's no point in denying it. We might as well let her in on it."

I shake my head playfully and look up at her. "Whoa, I've never said I like her, I've just learned to tolerate her," I tell her even though we both know it's not true, "and then she goes and pulls a stunt like today and I'm back to hating her again."

"And what would this stunt be exactly?" she smirks, swinging our joined hands as we walk.

"She kept me away from you, a whole entire day," I say. My pace slows until I'm completely stopped. Looking up at her I want nothing more than to kiss her to show her how much I missed being around her. "Is it okay to kiss on the first date? Or before maybe, considering we haven't even left the building yet."

"I think it would be a shame if we didn't, especially when you're dressed like that."

She leans down and gives me a chaste kiss on the lips but it somehow manages to bring me to an even higher high than before. I pull back and smile widely at her.

"You look beautiful," I tell her truthfully. Every girl deserves to be told that, especially when they look as stunning as she does right now, and I want to make sure she believes it.

"Ditto," she says with a smile, and she takes my hand again as we head out onto the street.

My initial reaction is to pull away once I realize that other people can see us now and, being as perceptive as she is, I think Brittany senses that. She loosens her grip and looks down at me but I shake my head and tighten by hand around her own. This is our first date, whatever Brittany wants, Brittany gets. My own insecurities be damned.

...

When I don't hail down a taxi or take her to the subway, Brittany starts to get curious and continuously asks me questions about where we're going but I don't give in, no matter how hard she makes it. I want this to be a surprise, it needs to be special.

It was an odd experience planning a date. With the guys I've gone out with, they've always been the ones to do the planning, leaving me to sit back and enjoy but, after this, I've almost found a new respect for them. It's hard to plan out something when all you want is for it to be perfect.

Knowing she loved to dance, I thought maybe a Broadway show would be a memorable first date but after running that idea by Rachel, why I did that I'm still not sure, I was told that Brittany wasn't one for big, expensive things. Another idea was to take her to the zoo but I vetoed that before I even told Rachel, figuring it seemed pretty strange for a first date. Though, now that I think about it, she probably would have loved that more than what I actually have planned.

Eventually, I settled on the classic dinner date. As boring as it sounds, I managed to get reservations at a really nice restaurant, well from what I've heard it's nice, and I figure it will at least give us time to talk. That's what first dates are all about right? Getting to know the person.

Brittany's eyes light up once she sees the restaurant and skips to the door. Our hands are still interlace so she would be pulling me along if I weren't skipping right beside her. Brittany seems to be enjoying herself so why wouldn't I be skipping? All I can hope for is that nothing I do in the next few hours wipes that smile off her face.

"Reservation for Lopez," I tell the man once we enter the building and, after checking the small book in his hand, he escorts us to a table in the back. It's mostly secluded from the other tables, not so much that we can't see anyone else but enough that we have a small bit of privacy that I'm grateful for. Even though this is New York, it's still my first date with a girl and, as much as I'd like to convince myself that I don't care what others think, I do.

"My lady," Brittany says in a faux male voice as she pulls the chair out for me.

My brow furrows as I turn to face her. This is my date, I'm supposed to be the one being all chivalrous and sweeping her off her feet.

"Quit pouting and take your seat. You set this all up, I need to try and earn some points wherever I can," she jokes, taking the seat across from me.

"You can earn your points on the next date, which you will be planning by the way," I retort, taking a seat.

At my words, a smirk plasters itself across her face. "Agreeing to a second date already. Wow, I must be good."

Instead of being embarrassed like I typically would be, I smile at her, ensuring her that a second date is definitely in my plans.

...

After looking through our menus, we both order and fall into comfortable conversation. The way she speaks, the things she says, I just find it all so captivating. When she talks about dance or her teachers, it is with such passion that I can feel it. She seems to know exactly what she's doing with her life, exactly what she wants. I wish I was that sure about something, anything.

"So how did you do on that paper after?" I ask, figuring I should actually speak at some point instead of being completely caught up in listening to her. "The one you almost killed yourself trying to hand in on time?"

Her face immediately falls. "Oh," she mumbles, almost looking embarrassed. "I failed it. Apparently I have a hard time focusing on one topic, I jump all over the place without explaining anything."

"That sucks, I know you worked really hard on it," I try to comfort her. God, why am I such an idiot? "Do you think you're going to be able to pass the class?"

"I don't know," she says honestly.

"Well, like I told you, I can help you whenever you need it. I think my brain was built for writing English papers so I could proof read your next one, tell you what things you need to focus on and what you can leave out."

"Yeah, I thought about asking you for help," she admits, a blush covering her face. It's so rare to see her shy about anything. "I just didn't want you to think I was stupid or something, I was embarrassed."

"What have I told you about that word? I would never say you're stupid because that would be a lie. You're brilliant. You can dance better than anyone I've ever seen, you can read people better than most people can read a book. You see me for what I really am, not just at face value. I think I owe you the same courtesy. There are different kinds of smart aside from book smart."

"'Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid'," she quotes offhandedly, looking as though she's understanding it for the first time.

"See? You are smart. Quoting and everything."

"I just really like fish," she deadpans.

How is it possible for one person to be so impossibly perfect?

…

"So what do you think?" I ask nervously, referring to the restaurant.

Or maybe the date. Or maybe me. I don't know.

We've been here for at least a half hour now and there's still no sign of our food. It seems much too long for the price we're paying, might I add, but for some reason I can't bring myself to be pissed about it. Pissed, no. Nervous, yes. Where conversation flowed easily when we first arrived, my over thinking started to get the best of me and now I'm a blubbering mess.

"I figured dinner would give us a chance to really talk, get to know each other."

"Well, what would you like to know?" she asks in a flirtatious tone, giving me a wink. It's equal parts comforting and sexy, and it sends my mind spinning.

"Um," I start, not entirely sure how to respond. I don't think the right question was what I wanted to know, a shorter response would come from her asking what I didn't want to know. She could tell me anything and I'd be completely enamored just by her voice. "When's your birthday?" I ask, deciding to ask one of the simpler questions that come to mind.

"Seriously? I give you permission to basically ask me anything and that's what you come up with? You could have found that out on Facebook, or asked Rachel," she laughs. "March 25th. Now it's my turn. Umm, what's the best date you've ever been on?"

"This one," I reply instantly, earning an eye roll from Brittany.

"C'mon," she laughs, "I'm being serious. This one isn't over yet, it doesn't count."

"But it's already so much better than every other date I've been on," I say playfully. It's the truth but I don't really want her to know that, not yet at least. This is our first date, I can't have her thinking I'm that pathetic just yet. "Dave Karofsky," I finally say and her eyes jolt up to meet mine. "Back in middle school. He snuck us into the football field at McKinley and we had a picnic right under the goal post. We spend the whole date talking about how awesome it was going to be once we finally got to be out on the field, or the sidelines, wearing those uniforms we knew would earn us the respect of the town. It's probably the most effort anyone has put into a date for me and the only one I've ever really enjoyed. He was a pretty nice guy until high school got to his head."

For a moment, I get lost in the memory and realize that his name didn't just pop into my head at random. Up until tonight, that truly was the best date I've ever been one. It was also the last one I remember having before the pressure of sex was added.

When I refocus on the conversation at hand, a small grin on Brittany's face has me wondering what I said. I only answered her question. "What?" I ask, letting out a laugh at her expression.

"If I tell you something, you promise not to tell anyone?" she asks, reaching her pinky out. Nodding, I take it into mine and I can't help but wonder what the next words out of her mouth will be. "Hopefully this doesn't ruin that day for you, because it really does seem like it was a lovely date, but Dave, he's kind of capital-G gay."

"You're shitting me?" slips out of my mouth. I'm absolutely stunned.

There is no way Karofsky's gay. He picked on Kurt all those years, pushing him into lockers and throwing slushies in his face because he was gay. He was also the best quarterback that school had ever seen, not that it means much, but he was still the most athletic guy around.

"I shit you not," she replies, grinning like a kid who just found the Christmas present stash. I can't help but smile, not only at her, but at the sound of a curse word on her lips. That's a first. "The GSA back at McKinley was very confidential. If you saw someone there, you told no one, so not very many people know. I'm not sure exactly how Dave got involved, Kurt probably had something to do with it, but he just showed up one day during sophomore year. He didn't say anything for months, just sat in the back looking like a sad panda, until one day he stood up when I asked if anyone had anything they wanted to say and he just admitted it. He went back to being quiet after that but he never look as sad anymore. I think it was a lot more helpful to him than he'll ever admit."

"That's actually crazy," I say, still a little dumbfounded by the whole thing.

Karofsky's gay, who would have thought? Maybe I should have slept with him on our date, at least then we both would have been equally disgusted by the entire experience. Well, maybe not disgusted because, hello, have you seen me?

"Okay, your turn," Brittany reminds me, bouncing up and down in her chair out of excitement.

"Where's you're favourite place to travel?"

"Up until coming here with the Berry's, I'd never been outside of Lima before," she admits and I find it hard to believe.

"You can't be serious. Never?" She shakes her head back and fourth and I mirror her actions out of sheer disbelief. "How did you manage to stay sane, stuck in that cow town for all those years?"

She laughs shyly before answering. "I didn't really have a choice. I mean, I don't know how to drive and I've never had enough money to buy a plane ticket, even the glee club wasn't good enough to win us a trip to nationals. I was just kind of stuck there."

She tries to hide it but I know talking about Lima has made her slightly uncomfortable so I quickly ask another question to lighten the dampened mood. This night is about us, about two people getting to know each other after years of being mere classmates and months of becoming friends, and nothing else matters. Regardless of how much not knowing is driving me insane.

...

"God, when is the food going to be here? I'm starving," I whine, not entirely certain if the strange feeling in my stomach is from hunger or nerves. Hunger seems to be the safer option.

"You're just trying to get out of this game because it's my turn to ask a question," she says, placing a hand under her chin as though she's thinking. As I watch her, I can practically see the light bulb illuminate as her eyes widen. "This is a good one. You said earlier that you wouldn't say I'm stupid because it would be a lie but you've totally lied before, it's like a bare necessity. What was the last lie you told?" she asks playfully, wanting to get some dirt on me.

The answer comes to me immediately and it's not as scandalous as she probably hoped for. It's actually a bit embarrassing and I contemplate lying and making up something much more interesting but fuck it, this night is about getting to know each other.

"It was today actually, when I picked you up from Rachel's," I admit. Her eyebrow cocks up, curious, and I let out a nervous chuckle. "Um, when Rachel said she wanted to take our picture and I told her I didn't want her too, that was complete bullshit. I want a picture of us so badly, not to remember this night by, because I know I'll have no trouble doing that, just so there will be some proof that this is real and not some made up fantasy I created inside of my head."

Focusing on the table, I feel a blush creep over my face as she takes my hand into hers and gives it a light squeeze. "Who knew Santana Lopez was such a softie?" she teases, pulling her phone out of her pocket with her free hand. "We will take as many pictures as you need so you know this is not a fantasy, though it is quite flattering to know I am fantasy material."

The smile that appears on my face is completely uncontrollable, growing even more when she makes her way over to me, holding the phone out in front of us to capture this moment.

The waiter finally reappears just as Brittany retakes her seat but, suddenly, I'm not hungry anymore. This feeling of happiness, of lightness, of absolute adoration, has filled me up to the point where I don't want to waste any time with food. Getting to know Brittany seems to be the only thing worth my time.

A ding from my purse pulls me out of my head and I quickly sift through it's contents before finding my phone. Unlocking it, I see it's a text from Brittany with the photo of the two of us attached. Looking up, giving her a thankful smile, I finally pick up my fork to start eating.

Maybe this dating thing isn't as terrible or hard as originally thought. Maybe it's because of Brittany but nothing in my life has ever felt more natural than being here with her, right now, in this moment. Watching her spin her spaghetti on her fork, concentrating hard on not making a mess but still managing to get sauce on her face, I've never felt so strongly towards anyone in my life.

…

"Tonight was pretty awesome, San. Thanks for doing it for me," Brittany whispers into my ears, her head propped on my shoulder as we sit on the couch in our living room.

I lay my head down on top of hers. "It was nothing, really. My dad just has some connections out here, that's how I was able to get us a table," I admit, knowing she doesn't care how I made the date happen, just that it happened. "What I really wanted was for us to get to take a walk, maybe go to the park or something romantic like you see in the movies. I wanted to talk to you more. I should have taken into account that winter is practically here."

"I think what we did was plenty romantic," she smiles, "and what could you possibly want to talk about, we've talked all night. I figured by now you'd be bored of the sound of my voice."

"Never," slips out of my lips before I can stop it. "I just want to know everything there is to know about you, Britt. You amaze me."

"Well I guess I can't go giving away all my stories on the first date, you may never want to see me again."

She snuggles in closer to my side and I listen to the sound of her breathing fill the room. Without the noise from the T.V. or the radio or even our voices, I'm able to relax at her touch. Being this close to someone, both physically and otherwise, is something I've kind of always wanted, even if I'm not willing to admit it to even myself most days. Despite the way I carry myself, letting people believe I don't give a shit about them or anything really, I actually like having people around. Like today, for example, when Brittany was with Rachel. I hated getting ready alone, I hated having to psych myself up for my first date with a girl, I hated having no one there to see me off. Brittany had all of that and, as happy as I was for her, I was as equally depressed for myself.

I like having friends, I want to have them as long as they don't suck. Lucky for me, Brittany is probably the least suckiest person around.

…

Time passes by quickly when it's just the two of us like this and soon Brittany's sentences are no longer making as much sense as they usually do and she yawns every few minutes. Not wanting tonight to end battles with the need for sleep and soon my eyes start to flutter closed.

"I think we should probably get some sleep," I yawn, stretching my arms out over my head. Nodding in agreement, she stands so I'm able to get off the couch. As much as it sucks to have to part ways, knowing she's just down the hall and I'll see her as soon as I wake up is a nice comfort.

"Could I maybe-" I start, focusing my eyes on my feet. _C'mon, don't be a little shit. You got through everything else tonight, you can do this. _I raise my head. "Would you like me to walk you to your door?"

Instead of laughing like I thought she may, she just takes my hand when I offer it and lets me lead the way. Things might be a little backwards for us, like moving in together before we even went on our first date, but I want to make sure this is as close to perfect as possible. What's a date without dropping them off at the door?

"I had an amazing time tonight, San," she tells me, sleep evident in her voice but her eyes look nothing but alive. "That second date you were going on about earlier, I'm totally taking you up on that. It will be my chance to woo you."

I want to say that woo-ing will not be necessary but even in my tired state I can recognize how cheesy that sounds. "I'd like that," I say shyly, my voice trailing off.

There is something else I want to say, something that I know neither of us will want to hear. Brittany knows it's coming though, the softened look on her face gives her away fairly quickly, but that doesn't make it any easier to say. It doesn't make me hate myself any less.

Why am I such a fucking coward?

"Look Britt, I want you to know that I had a really great time tonight," I start, trying to ignore the slight quiver in my voice. "It was honestly the best date I've ever been on thanks to you and there is nothing about it I would change. I really like you, so much it's actually kind of scary, but I'm done running from it. I want to do this together, go on dates, hang out, see what comes of all of this, but I still-I just…"

"You're still uncomfortable around other people, I get it," she says dejectedly, like she's heard this a thousand times before.

"I'm not going to make you wait though," I tell her, having to force the words out of my mouth. "I don't know when I'll be able to hold your hand in public without wincing at the stares or proudly introduce you to my parents. You've helped me out a lot and I definitely owe you so much thanks, I also owe you the chance to get out while we're not in this too deep. You deserve someone who's willing to do all those things for you, not some fucking wimp who can't even make it through one date without doubting everything."

It kills me to say those words. In quite a literally sense because seeing her face fall, it's enough to break my heart, shatter it in my chest. She has to know I'm only saying this because I care about her though. Why else would I put someone else's needs before my own, that's what you do when you care about people, right? Not that I have much experience with that. She's been down this road before, back when she first got outted and her girlfriend ran, I need to give her the option of an out before she gets hurt again. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I put her through that.

"I don't understand," Brittany finally says, her voice low and shaky.

"As much as I like you, I don't want you to ever resent me," I explain truthfully. "What if we do this but I can't come out in the next few weeks? What if it takes months even? I can't expect you to deal with that. They're my insecurities, Brittany, you shouldn't be burdened by them."

Everything I'm telling her is completely true, even if I don't know the absolute accuracy of my words until they leave my lips. But I've been spending a lot of time thinking about it, wondering if what I'm doing is selfish. Since I asked her on this date, I've been considering the possibility that maybe it is. Yes, I like her and I have for a while now, but she had also just confessed that she had a crush on me when she was younger. I also knew for a fact that she was completely okay with her sexuality and that she's had public relationships before while I was nowhere near ready for that. Maybe, when I asked her out, it was to fill my own personal needs without considering hers. Was I taking advantage of her?

"You're not a burden, San," she says immediately, "and neither are your insecurities. You are so brave, so so brave. I'm not going to use this as an excuse to put a stop to this because I know you and I know that you're brave enough to figure this out. I won't ever pressure you for anything but I know this won't take long. Even tonight, though I could tell you were afraid, you still held your head high and walked hand and hand with me."

"Yeah, but-"

"No," she smiles, reaching out to take my hands in hers. Her touch instantly calms me. "You can do this, Santana. I believe in you and even if it does take a while for you to be comfortable with this," she explains, squeezing out joined hands, "I will wait because I've wanted this for a long time. You deserve to have someone who's willing to wait for you."

At her words, I actually feel my legs go weak and her arms wrap around me to hold me up right. Everything was perfect, the dinner, the conversation, her, until I, being the colossal idiot I apparently am, decided to screw it up and make things weird.

I hope I didn't ruin tonight for her.

"This doesn't change anything, okay?" she assures me, forcing me to stand up so I can look her right in the eye. "You're special, San. I can see it so clearly, I wish more than anything that you could too."

Embarrassed by my little meltdown, I can only bring myself to nod in response. How does she know exactly what to say?

"I don't let special people get away that easy, you're going to have to come up with a much better excuse to get rid of me."

* * *

This chapter was actually extremely difficult for me to write, though I'm not sure why, so sorry if it feels a little weird or awkward to read. However, while I was stuck on this one, I spend a lot more time on the next few so hopefully they will be of better quality.

And to the reviewer who said they wanted to see jealous!Britt, all I'm going to say is this story is far from over!

Until next time.


	9. Chapter 8

"Good morning," I chime as I make my way into the kitchen.

The morning after mine and Brittany's first date was admittedly one of the best I can remember. The mornings that followed weren't too shabby either. Waking up, knowing that Brittany is nearby, to be able to kiss her good morning and watch her make breakfast. It just seems so surreal for this to all feel so comfortable, so fast. It's as though a switch inside me has been permanently flipped and I'm always happy.

Everything just feels so much lighter.

"Morning to you," Brittany replies, spinning around in her chair to meet me. I can only hope that her smile can be attributed to my presence. "I missed you last night."

Standing up, she wraps hers arms around me and, reflexively, my lips seek out comfort on hers. There is no better way to wake up than to Brittany's kisses, I've discovered.

"You too," I mumble before placing one last kiss on her lips. "What are your plans for the day?"

Our previously established routine as roommates has been slightly adjusted now that we're roommates who go out on the occasional date and make out during movie night. We try to be home for meals as often as possible, making sure the nights we can eat together, we do.

With school, and Brittany's job, it's sometimes hard to find time to spend together but that's something we're working on. Last night just happened to be one of those nights where neither of us could get away from previous commitments. I really hate not being able to spend time with her.

"I was thinking maybe we could stay in?" she suggests. "I was hoping you'd maybe let me cook dinner for you, sweep you off your feet. That type of thing. What do you say?"

One of the best things about our new arrangement is that I don't have to wait up for her on night when she goes out on a date. While I've never told Brittany about those nights, whenever she would go out with someone new I would wait up for her. Lying silently in my dark room, I wouldn't be able to find sleep until I heard the familiar rattle of keys at the door followed by a clicking noise. That let me know she was home safely. Although I hate to admit it, there may have been ulterior motives. Maybe, subconsciously, it was jealousy or just curiosity, but hearing that door open let me know she wasn't spending the night with anyone else and that thought alone was enough to calm me into a deep sleep.

Though we have yet to establish any rules regarding the openness of our relationship, I honestly don't think Brittany is someone who would be sleeping around while we have our thing, whatever it is, going on.

"I'd love that," I tell her, popping a few slices of bread into the toaster.

Mornings like this are something I can definitely get used to.

...

"You really shouldn't be here, San. I wanted everything to be a surprise."

Laughing, I move closer to Brittany as we walk up and down the supermarket aisle. "Well, why did you agree to let me come with you then?"

In lieu of a response, she lets out a playful huff and tries to act like she's upset at me.

"Just admit it, you can't get enough of me and my lovely charm," I tease, pulling some popcorn off of the shelf and placing it in the cart.

Truthfully, I think I was the one who didn't want to be away from her. When she told me she was heading out for a few hours to get some things for tonight, I was a bit upset about it. I know I shouldn't be growing so dependent on her so quickly but today is Sunday, it's the only day for the next week that we both have completely free. I was really looking forward to spend it all with her.

"Yeah, yeah," she says playfully, skimming her eyes across the list in her hand.

I chance a glance at it but, before my eyes make it to the small piece of paper, they lock onto the hand holding it. Would it be awkward, holding the hand of a person who's pushing shopping cart? I mean, she would obviously have to use both hands but maybe I could lay mine on top of hers or something. Would that be weird?

Uncharacteristically so, I push all the thoughts out of my head and instead follow my gut. As soon as she lays the lists down and presses her hands to the bar to push the cart forward, I bring my hand to hers and wrap my fingers around it.

At the contact, she looks up and me but thankfully doesn't comment. She's getting really good at knowing exactly when and when not I need someone to reassure me. She just flips her hand so she can intertwine our fingers as we walk.

We haven't really talked about my little meltdown during our date but it doesn't seem like something either of us believe to be important. Brittany was right about me when she said I could do this, though I knew there was no point in doubting her in the first place because of how well she can read me. After that first date, it did get easier, and has been easier, for me to be out in public with her. It's isn't much but just holding her hand now, that's something I would never dreamed of doing only last week. It's liberating to know I'm beginning to be able to make my own choice.

"Hey, watch it," an older man yells, successfully pulling me out of my daze, and I notice that without both of Brittany's hands steering the cart, it veered off and hit into the man.

"Sorry sir," Brittany says, trying to sound serious, but I can hear the faint hint of laughter in her voice.

I don't reach for her hand again during that trip, but an immense sense of pride has now fallen upon me. Now I have no doubts that, with time, this relationship is something I'm going to be shouting from the rooftops.

Later that night, after the dishes have been cleared and the movie already playing, my hand seeks out hers again.

…

"So San," Brittany says, plopping down on my bed. "I have something to ask you."

Turning around in my desk chair to face her, I rub my tired eyes. I locked myself in my room a few hours ago, telling her I needed to get some work done, but I've been studying for so long that the words seems to dance across the page, messing with my ability to focus. I think I'm due some down time.

"Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"Maybe because you probably won't," she admits freely, "but I know you'll agree because I'm asking, right? I mean, you could spend Friday night alone or you could come with me on a date type thing."

"Date type thing?" This piques my interest. "What does that even mean?"

"Rachel's play is opening on Friday, I wanted to know if you would be my plus one? She got me two tickets and an invite to the after party so…"

Shaking my head back and fourth, I stand up and start walking out of the room. "I do not want to spend my Friday night watching hobbit and co. prance around on stage in those terrible medieval outfits. Not happening," I state, trying as hard as possible to stand my ground here. The further away from Brittany I am, the less likely she will be able to sway my decision.

"But San," I hear her call from the room and soon she's following me down the hall, "I have to be there because she's my best friend so at least come with me, I could use the company and someone to nudge me when I start dozing off."

Plopping down onto the couch, my arms cross over my chest and I avoid her gaze which I can feel burning into me.

"C'mon," she whispers, moving close enough that I can feel her breath on my ear. I really should not be getting turned on right now. Despite everything, I manage to resist the urge to jump her and eventually she backs away, taking a seat on the other side of the couch. "How did you even know what outfits they had to wear anyway?"

_Crap._ "I, uh," I stutter, trying to come up with the perfect lie. "Lucky guess?"

Arching her eyebrow, she gives me a look that lets me know she isn't buying my shit for one second. "Fine. I went to her rehearsal one day to tell her I was going to ask you out. Are you happy now?" I ask, pouting like a six year old.

"Very much so," she teases through a giggle. "You asked her permission to take me on a date? You do realize she's not my father."

"I didn't ask her for permission," I say defensively but she just starts to laugh harder. "Brittany Susan Pierce, if you don't stop right now there is no way I'm going to that damn play with you."

Her laughter stops at my words and she just looks at me almost in awe. What the fuck did I do now?

"How did you know my middle name?" she asks curiously, cocking her head to the side.

"Oh, c'mon. How could I not know your middle name. Britney Spears week, junior year? You spend the entire week sulking about how you were also Britney Spears and that you refused to sing the music of someone whose shadow you were forced to live under your entire life."

She looks almost impressed that I remembered that about her. Was it weird? Maybe a little, but she did say it quite a few times. Maybe two or three…maybe it is a little weird.

"I can't believe you remember that," she marveled. "You hated me. I figured you just ignored everything I said."

"Just because I hate someone doesn't mean I don't listen," I tell her offhandedly. "Unless you're Rachel, her I did hate and ignore. Never forget that."

She just shakes her head back and fourth.

"I never hated you though, just for the record," I assure her, realizing that I really didn't say anything to make her believe otherwise. "Never did."

The topic isn't exactly something I want to talk about and I think Brittany senses that. Instead of commenting on it, she just switches the conversation back to it's previous topic and, for that, I am grateful.

"So, what's your middle name?" she asks innocently. "It's not fair that you know mine when I don't know yours."

"Well maybe you should think about that the next time you rant about being Brittany Susan Pierce, Brittany S. Pierce, Brittany S'Pierce."

"Is it Maribel, like your mother?," she asks, completely ignoring what I just said. "That's where my middle name comes from. Or is it a family name, like your grandmother's or something? What's her name? Or maybe it's something sexy. Is it Spanish? I bet it's Shakira. Totally nailed it, didn't I? You're hips definitely don't lie."

She goes on for a few more minutes, trying to guess what it is. Some of the names are quite colourful and I can't help but laugh at them.

"It's Diabla," I finally tell her. "I think there was some crazy paranormal type of shit happening with that because it literally means female devil in Spanish."

"Oh wow, I would have never guess that. I don't think I've ever even heard that word before," she muses, pausing for a second to think about it. "But I think your parents got it wrong though, you're not a devil. It sounds too pretty to mean devil anyways, whoever came up with that word should reevaluate."

"You obviously don't know me well enough," I joke. Kind of. " There was a reason people back at McKinley called me Satan."

"Yeah, you act a little bitchy sometimes," she says playfully, "but that doesn't mean you are one. You're mean and rude to some people and-"

"Gee, thanks," I say with a smirk to let her know I'm kidding.

"I just don't think you're a bitch or a devil. I mean, you don't have a burn book or horns so it's not possible. You just let people believe you are because you don't want them to get close to you. You're afraid of what they'll find out if they do," she states simply.

This fucking girl must be able to read minds because there is no way she would be able to know these things. No one has ever been able to read me so well, not my parents, not Quinn. So what if I am a bitch? Maybe that's just who I am, maybe I don't have anything to hide. Regardless, it's worked. The only people in this entire city I talk to are basically Brittany and Rachel and, while I can only stand Rachel on the best of days, I don't need anyone else.

But what if I want them? Other friends.

"So, what about that play?"

…

"This better be a fucking amazing party," I mumble under my breath as we make our way into an older section of the school where the after party is being held.

Yes, Brittany managed to convince to come to this god forsaken play with her, who ever doubted she would? And it was honestly one of the longest two hours of my life. After sitting down, listening to Rachel and her clones prance around stage for two hours, I need a drink in my system.

"What was that?" Brittany asks, playfully.

"You know full well what I said," I shoot back with a smirk. "You some owe me some sweet lady kisses when we get home."

"Fine, I suppose that can be arranged. Too bad you aren't ready to go public because," she leans closer to my ear, "I could give you a little preview right now."

She pulls back so I can see the wicked smile on her face. There are people around, not many granted, but people nonetheless and here I am blushing because Brittany has a terrible habit of turning me on. On second thought, it's probably less of a habit and more of a hobby as she seems to do it solely for her own personal enjoyment.

"Hello friends," the unmistakably perky voice of Rachel chimes and the mood is instantly killed.

"Berry," I greet, taking in her outfit.

Thankfully, she has changed out of her costume, I don't know why but I assumed she would stay in it all night to flaunt in people's face's or something, but her own pant suit isn't really doing it for her either. However, knowing it would upset Brittany, I abstain from voicing the snarky comment on the tip of my tongue.

"I just wanted to ask what you thought of the production," she smiles, swaying back and fourth on the heels of her shoes. When neither of us answer immediately, her face falls and she starts rambling. "I know it's not typically something that either of you would enjoy but I thought there may be some elements to it that you would find amusing b-"

"Whoa, Rach," I stop her. "It was pretty cool, I have to admit."

The lie slips off my tongue as easily as Brittany's hand slips into mine at my words. She squeezes it gently and the sickness growing in my stomach from complimenting the hobbit slips away.

"You called me Rach," Rachel pipes in, her face practically beaming.

God damn it, why does she have to make everything such a big deal? It just makes people feel awkward, mainly me for slipping up like that. If I can't even keep my attitude up around Berry, I know I'm screwed.

"Let's get some drinks to celebrate," Rachel suggests and the three of us make our way to the bar, Brittany first bumping the air with her free hand the entire way.

Okay, so maybe having Rachel as a friend is something I should consider.

…

"I'm gonna go dance," Brittany announces, placing her glass down on the table. "Care to join?"

Looking out at the semi-crowded dance floor, then back to Brittany, I reluctantly shake my head and take another sip of my drink. Shrugging her shoulders, she makes her way out to a small group of people she seems to know and I watch her walk away.

"It may sound rude, considering our level of friendship is still questionable, but may I ask what that was about?" a voice next to me says and I turn to see Rachel sitting across from me. I could've swore she left our table twenty minutes ago.

"None of your business, Berry," I huff, finishing off my drink.

Looking over at her again, I can tell she's a little put off by my words and I actually feel bad about it for a moment. What the hell is with me tonight?

"Look," I start, trying to use the calmest voice I can muster, "I'm just in a mood. I don't mean to be a bitch to you."

This seems to perk her right back up and she slides into the seat next to me which Brittany previously occupied. "Well, maybe I could help?" she suggests with a 100 watt smile on her face. "Though you would probably never admit it, I consider you a friend and I think you do too, and friends help each other. I'm also Brittany's best friend so if this regards her in any possible way, I may be of assistance to you."

Has this what my life has come to? Seeking relationship advice from the girl I don't think has had one successful relationship in her life?

"It's just me being ridiculous," I admit, shaking my head back and fourth at how absurd this whole thing is. "I see Brittany like this, so happy and carefree, and it makes me feel like absolute shit that I tore her down for the same reasons in high school. That, along with the fact that I'm too much of a fucking pussy to go over and dance with her."

She wants to say something, I can practically see the wheels turning even in this dim lit room, so I quickly continue before she can open her mouth. If we're doing this, having some heart to heart or whatever the fuck you want to call it, I'm going to make sure I get to say everything I need to.

"I'm a train wreck and Brittany deserves so much better," I say honestly. "People say that all the fucking time, usually just fishing for fucking compliments about how they're so much better than they know and they deserve to happy and all that crap. That's not what this is though. This is me finally realizing what's been there all along. I can't be with Brittany if I can't give her what she deserves, I care about her too much."

Rachel's hand makes it's way onto my shoulder and I immediately shrug it off. It's kind of a knee-jerk reaction but I still prefer not be touched all the time.

"The world isn't against you, you know that right?" she says with a hint of desperation in her voice. "Honestly, do you believe that I would let you be with Brittany if I thought you were bad for her? That I would be okay with it? If I thought that, for one second, you would revert back to your old ways we would most definitely be having an entirely different conversation right now. You do remember when I showed up at your apartment, don't you?"

The joke lightens the weight of the situation slightly but thinking about it also makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. I shift nervously in my chair and play with the empty glass in my hand.

"You need to talk with her about this, Santana. Judging by this conversation, there is a lot of things you two need to discuss, if only to make sure you're on the same page. Brittany would never allow you to think theses things and she may be quite upset at you for never bringing these doubts to her attention. I would suggest a power point presentation for the best results-"

"Yeah, yeah, Berry," I say, shaking my hand in front of her face to stop her. "I think I have it from here."

After studying my face for a few second to see if I'm actually telling the truth, she gives me a quick nod before turning to walk away.

"Wait, Rachel," I call, causing her to turn around with a bemused look on her face. "I kind of suck at this but," I chew on my lips nervously, "thanks, I guess. For, you know, tonight and with the date and stuff. You're a good friend to Britt."

"It's my pleasure," she replies. "I hope one day you will consider me a friend as well, Santana."

…

After parties are supposed to be better than whatever it is they're following and with Rachel's play being that thing, there should have been no way it would be worse. _Wrong._ For starters, the music is absolute crap. Considering this is a school dedicated to the performing arts, you would think they'd hire a better DJ than Mr. Top 40's who, it seems, has been playing the same shitty hits for the better part of the night. On the bright side, the drinks don't actually suck that bad, alcohol is alcohol, but the fact that the bar is so far away from my seat sucks.

Another strike against this party is the people. Simply put, they suck. Like this girl who's dancing with Brittany right now, grinding all up into her like she owns her. Like, who does she think she is?

Downing the rest of the mixed drink in my hand, I'm not even sure what was in it, I run my hand through my hair and force my eyes back out into the crowd to see Brittany. I fucking can't believe her, Brittany or the other girl. I thought we had something. We were dating, I was having a nice time, things were good.

Unsteadily, I push myself off my chair and onto my feet.

How many drinks have I had?

Wait, that doesn't matter.

Brittany is my girl, I need to get her back from this theatre bimbo.

"Hey," I yell over the music. "You, the one dancing."

Nobody seems to hear me so I let out a scoff and move closer until I'm standing right behind Brittany. "Get off of her," I slur, causing both Brittany and the other girl to turn around. I have an inkling suspicion that I'm going to regret every second of this in the morning but, right now, I don't seem to care.

"Excuse me?" the girl asks, putting her hand on her hip.

_Oh no she didn't. I'm about to go all Lima Heights._

"Santana, don't," Brittany warns but this bitch is playing on my last nerve.

"That's my girlfriend, you don't get to dance with her like that. She only dances like that with me," I yell, before realizing we haven't ever really danced together. Except at that party but that was different. It didn't mean anything then, it didn't matter that there were other people with us. Now, it would mean something completely different. "Or she will, soon. Just stay the fuck away from her and I won't have to beat your ass."

Jumping in between me and the bitch, Brittany puts her hand on my shoulders. "Whoa, San. Calm down."

She tries to turn me away but this girl needs to have her ass handed to her and I'm more than willing to do it. There are people watching us now, they've formed a small circle around us, but that doesn't stop me.

Taking a step forward, I lunge at the girl but a pair of strong arms wrap around me before I can get to her. They belong to Brittany. Suddenly, the room seems to be spinning around me and all I can focus on is the arms on my stomach. I notice a small mole near her wrist I've never seen before.

After that, nothing else seems to register and the noise around me dulls to a low murmur.

…

"I'm an idiot," I say with as much energy as I can muster as I walk into the living room to meet Brittany.

Last night is pretty much a blur inside my head and even trying to remember anything makes my head pound. There may still be some alcohol running through my system. Even so, I have been cursed with the memory of be being an absolute bitch, and also sobbing hysterically. Other than that, the blurred image of a dark haired bitch dancing with Brittany is all I remember.

"Have some pills first," she says, handing me a bottle from the table. "I don't want you barfing on me while you explain why I had to drag you out of there to keep you from murdering that poor woman."

Her tone isn't angry, exactly, more disappointed than anything. But, just as it was when you were a kid, the feeling of having let someone down is so much worse than being yelled at or punished. It makes you feel like crap.

Sinking down into the couch next to her, I swallow a few pills, following them with a chug of water from the bottle Brittany hands me. After a few seconds, my mind is able to comprehend the words and a new wave of embarrassment washes over me. She had to drag me out? Fuck, what did I mange to get into?

"I was jealous, I think," I start, trying to remember any motives that required such actions.

"You were saying stuff like that last night when I put you to bed," she smiles shyly. "You were getting pretty weepy and needy. You were saying things like how I didn't want you and that I deserved better. There was also some Spanish thrown in there but I have no idea what you were saying. If I hadn't been so mad at you, I would have thought it was hot."

Damn my uncontrollable emotions once alcohol enters my system. Embarrassed, I tug nervously on the hem of my baggy t-shirt. Doing a double take, I realize I have no recollection of changing last night. Meaning Brittany must have done it. Suddenly I feel even more embarrassed than before.

"You could have asked me to dance, you know," she says offhandedly, her voice more timid than I've ever heard. It's almost as though she's afraid of what my response will be.

"I should have," I tell her, "and I wanted to. Believe me, did I ever want to."

"So why didn't you?" she begs. "I know you aren't really comfortable with this, but friends dance together. Nobody would have known any differently."

I give her a nod, averting my eyes as I feel tears begin building in them. "I know. It's j-just hard sometimes," I admit through shaky breaths. "I feel like people will be able to see right through me, see who I really am. I'm not ashamed of it, really. I promise you I will never be ashamed of being with you. I just don't want the world to know before I've figured it out myself." Shaking my head, I chance a glace up at her to see her watching me intently. "That probably sounds really stupid, sorry."

"It's perfectly understandable, Santana. You're coming to terms with yourself, you're discovering who you really are. Nothing about that is stupid. It's brave. I just wish you didn't have to be so scared all the time, I hate seeing you scared."

"You make things better, Britt. You do," I assure her. It's the truth. I don't know where I would be without her, probably drowning in booze and one night stands with guys. That was always my plan once I got to college. Not to be a slut, per say, but to screw around until I finally found a guy that would make me feel something. Something that wasn't numb, something that didn't make me feel dirty. "It's just going to take some time."

"You deserve to be happy, San. No matter how long it takes, I know you'll find happiness one day."

"That day doesn't really seem so far away anymore," I say blissfully, looking up to see her smiling warmly at me. Suddenly, things seem a little too intimate so I try to change the subject. "So, did I do anything else I should be embarrassed about? I'm sure I did."

Sending me a wicked grin, Brittany lets me know that there is definitely more. I let out a loud groan. "You may or may not have called me your girlfriend."

Taken aback my her words, I'm unable to string a coherent sentence together. Is that what she wants us to be? Is our relationship even at that level yet? It must be what I want, at least on some subconscious level, but I would never voice that thought sober. I mean, sure, we've been on a few dates and I've had a nice time. This all just seems to be happening really fast.

"Don't worry," she says with a laugh, "I'm not going to hold you to anything you say while drunk. Especially when you can't even remember it the next day. What we have now, it's good. It works for both of us."

Santana Lopez is not one to be disappointed by others. I'm so used to it, it's almost something I expect. Why, then, does this unsettling feeling in my stomach feel too much like disappointment when she utters those words. It's not like I wanted her to be my girlfriend. Right?

"Will you dance with me?" I ask, not really thinking about it. "Right now, I mean. I just-err, never mind…"

"I would love to," she smiles.

Standing in front of me, she stretches her arms out towards me, indicating for me to take them.

And I do.

Brittany quickly finds the remote control for the radio and stops on a song I've never heard before. It's slow though, and as the sounds of piano and violin fill the air, I let out a long breath I didn't even know I was holding.

She pulls my body close to hers and leads.

"What I said last night, about you not being enough for me, how did that make you feel?" I ask, feeling as though I'm treading on thin ice by even bringing it up.

Pulling my body closer to hers, I feel her shrug against me. "That depends," she says quietly. "Was it just the alcohol talking, or is that how you actually feel?"

"Does it matter?"

Shaking her head back and fourth, she tells me no. "San, you can't possibly believe that. You're like, the most awesomest person I know, there is no way I would ever think I was too good for you. You shouldn't think it either."

"Yeah," I muse, nodding my head.

If only it were as easy for me to believe the words as it was for her to say them.

"Don't be sad, okay?" she tells me. "I care about you too much and it hurts to see you sad. You're perfect for me, every single part of you. You need to stop doubting yourself though."

There is certain amount of desperation to the words and hearing that just makes me feel guilty all over again.

"The other day you said something and it's kind of been playing on my mind ever since," I muse, running my hand through her hair. "You said that you thought I ignored everything you did because I hated you."

Her body tenses at my words but she brings her head to rest on my shoulder. She's probably afraid of what I'm going to say next, I've given her much reason in the past to, but I honestly don't believe she's going to expect what comes out next.

"And I told you I never hated you," I repeat. "That's the truth, Britt. Not in high school, not when we first moved in together. Admittedly, I did try to ignore you but it was always for my reputation. After years of doing it, I guess it just became a habit and that's why I was so cold towards you once we moved in together."

"San, you don't-"

"That doesn't excuse what I've done though, Brittany. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. Even last night, the way I treated you. It's inexcusable. I need you to be honest with me. If you're still mad at me for the past, tell me so I can try and make it better. I wouldn't be able to stomach finding out you're only being nice to me because you don't want to upset me. I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

"San," she replies with a giggle, "it's alright. I believe you."

Pulling back, my head cocks to the side, trying to judge whether or not she's being serious. Brittany really isn't one for lying but I find it hard to believe all could be forgiven that easily. There was no grande gesture, no big display of apology. She is a very forgiving person but this is too much, even for her.

"Can this be the end of these discussions?" Brittany asks, seeking out my eyes with her own. "I really care about you, Santana. I need you to believe that, and also that nothing you have done in the past is going to change that. The past is the past, it happened. But if I didn't move on from anything that's happened to me before, I'd basically have no friends and live a very depressing life. I hate seeing you like this so can you just please promise me that this is over?"

My initial reaction is to say no. I want to say no for not only my own sake, but for hers as well. I need to somehow prove to her that I am worthy of her trust and, so far, I've done nothing but whine like a child.

But then she smiles at me and the words get caught in my throat. "If that's what you want," I manage to say, trying to force myself into believing it.

Our bodies pull together again at my words and we just silently sway for the remainder of the song. The way she holds me, the tenderness to her touch, it makes it really hard to believe she may be lying. You don't hold people you hate the way she holds me. You don't dance like this with someone unless you actually care about them.

"Would you maybe want to do something with me?" I ask hopefully as the song comes to an end.

"And what would this something be?" Though the music has changed to a much more rapid paced song, she doesn't move her arms from my shoulders and we keep the same slow pace as before. "Because if it involves leaving the house I think we're both in need of a hairbrush and a chance of clothes, maybe a shower."

"I was thinking that we could maybe skype Quinn," I suggest. "She's kind of been on my case lately, wondering how things have been going between us, but I haven't really gotten a chance to speak with her since our date."

"Yes," she agrees, excitement evident in her voice. "Anytime I get to show you off, you should know I'll agree."

Ignoring the pang of guilt that builds inside of me because I've denied her of that privilege, I run to my room to grab my laptop and phone to send a quick heads up to Quinn.

"_To what do I owe this honour?_" Quinn asks as her face lights up my screen.

"Hey, Q," I greet and Brittany gives a small wave.

"_It's about time you got in contact with me, I was beginning to think you'd died or something,_" she laughs, placing her laptop down on what appears to be a desk and takes a seat in front of it.

"I've been busy," I admit shyly, chancing a glance at Brittany.

"_Care to inform me on what's been keeping you so occupied?_" Her eyebrows arch as she asks the question and I can't help but let out a nervous laugh. "_Last I heard, you were going to ask Brittany here out. Please tell me she managed to do that, Brittany. I can't listen to another conversation where she's trying to psych herself up._"

"Q," I exclaim, causing both her and Brittany to laugh. "For your information, I did ask her out and she agreed."

"She's quite the charmer," Brittany adds from her spot next to me. "She's even got a few more dates out of me since. Now I don't think she'd be able to get away if she tried."

"_You guys,_" Quinn all but squeals, the sound coming through my speakers at an ear piercing volume. "_What happened? I need to know everything._"

So we tell her and she listens and everything so seems so right it that moment, I have a hard time believing it's actually true. That I'm telling real memories rather than just a story or a fantasy. The way Quinn smiles as she listens intently to every single word we say, the way Brittany's face lights up at each new memory. It's seriously the strangest yet most amazing view I've ever witnessed.

"Well, I have to meet someone at the dance studio in an hour," Brittany pipes up and I feel the smile on my face falter slightly. "I won't be long but I need to shower and stuff beforehand so I'll let you two have some time."

With a quick kiss to me and a goodbye to Quinn, she's soon skipping out of the room and, when I hear the bathroom door close, I only then turn to face Quinn. If possible, she has an even bigger smile on her face than I do. I'm so glad she's my best friend.

"_I'm really happy for you,_" she says through a smile. "_She really seems to make you happy and you deserve it. Not to mention just how smitten you both seem._"

"Thanks, Q," I say, bowing my head. "Everything just feels so right recently. And I'm sorry for not calling you earlier, we've kind of been caught up in our own little daze. It's been nice."

Those words sit in the air for a few seconds, both of us taking in the moment.

"_I'm proud of you,_" Quinn finally says.

Four simple words have never made me feel so much.

"Honestly, I'm kind of proud of myself too," I admit.

In my life, I've been called many things. Hot, popular, bitchy, smart, stubborn, but never until Brittany had I been called brave. I knew there was something different about her the moment I started to let her open up to me, there is something about her that just makes me feel better about myself. She helped me tremendously throughout this entire thing and, along with Quinn, they've both helped me accomplish things I'd never been able to do otherwise.

Brittany made me want to step out of my comfort zone. Putting my heart out there to me feels like I'm exposing myself to the world but she made me want to take that risk. Thankfully, it all worked out in the end because things had turned out differently, I'd probably be a broken mess right now. Brittany can make me feel the highs and low of every single emotion, more so than I've experienced in the past.

Then there's Quinn who made me realize something that was right in front of me. She never judged me or asked question, she just helped me out the best she could and supported me the entire way.

"_You should be,_" Quinn smiles and I easily return the gesture.


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N:** This chapter should answer something many of you have been wondering about. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

By mid-December, both Brittany and I have finished our semesters so it's much easier to find time to spend, even with her ridiculous work hours. It's been a little over a month since I asked her out on that first date and the entire experience is much more enjoyable than I expected. It's kind of nice to have something to look forward to on the weekends, to get to pamper her and be pampered in return. We haven't mentioned the g-word yet but this is still the longest relationship I've ever been in and I'm getting a little anxious to take that next step.

Unfortunately, this time off isn't without reason. Christmas is less than two weeks away so things should be really hectic about now. That is, if I actually bothered to do anything I'm supposed to be doing instead of lying around with Brittany all day.

Last night, my mom called to inform me of the plans for the holidays, which seem a little packed for my liking, but I'm actually happy to see my family again so I don't even care. She told me that my brother is going home as well and taking his girlfriend with him. When she asked if I had anyone to bring home, I brushed the question off but it got me to thinking.

Brittany never mentions her family in anything but a quick comment and I don't recall her telling me her plans for the break. We didn't manage to make it home for Thanksgiving so I assumed she must be headed home for Christmas, especially considering Rachel and I would be in Lima as well.

Apparently that's not the case.

After the phone call, I tried asking her how she was going to spend her break but she just brushed me off, saying she had to work during the holidays and excused herself to her room. Never in all the time I've known her, even before we were close, had she been so cold towards me so I decided to let it go for the moment, figuring she really wasn't in the mood to talk about it, and let her be.

I then went to the second best source for anything pertaining Brittany. Rachel.

Uncharacteristically so, the hobbit refused to give up any information on the topic, insisting that it was Brittany's choice to stay and she had even turned down an offer from Rachel to join her at her fathers' for their Hanukkah celebrations. She said that if I needed anymore answers I would have to ask Brittany myself because it was not her place to tell.

Of course she would choose that moment to keep her mouth shut.

…

"Hey," I greet as Brittany stumbles out of her room. Ever since I brought up Lima the night before, she hasn't really seemed herself. The cheery look on her face, the bounce in her step, all gone. She just looks kind of deflated.

"Morning," she replies groggily, heading for the kitchen cupboards to grab a box of cereal. Watching as she pours herself a bowl of cereal, I contemplate bringing up the conversation again. It's probably not the best time because she still seems kind of pissed at me, not sure what that's all about, but I need to book my ticket home soon and it would be a much more bearable flight with her by my side.

"I know you said you weren't going back to Lima for Christmas," I start, chancing a glance up at her, "but I would really like you to reconsider. My mom-"

"NO," she yells, cutting me off. She catches me off guard, having never raised her voice at me before, and I jump at the sound. She notices my discomfort and a look of regret instantly passes over her face, her head dropping out of embarrassment to look at her cereal. Twirling her spoon mindlessly around the bowl, she switched to a much calmer tone and continues. "I'm sorry but I'm not going back there. I made a promise to myself that I would never set foot in that town again, it just holds too many bad memories. I-I just can't. I can't!" she reinforces, dropping her spoon and sending it clattering against the glass bowl, startling us both this time.

My stomach drops at her defeated tone, the tired look on her face. It's times like this when I realize how much I truly don't know about her, how oblivious I am to her life before moving here and even her current life. Not wanting to pressure her to say anything she doesn't feel comfortable enough talking about, but also knowing she needs to get whatever it is off her chest, I get an overwhelming feeling of confusion. Sometimes you have to relive the hurt to begin to feel better. I put my hand over her free one, silently begging her look up into my concerned eyes.

"I'm not welcome back home and things just suck for me there anyways," she starts but cuts herself off. "I can't-I'm sure you don't want to hear any of this."

She pulls back as she says the words, removing her hand from my grasp, but I shake my head, assuring her that I want to listen to anything she's willing to tell me. She's on the verge of a breakthrough here and I don't want her to stop until she gets it all out.

"My parents are alcoholics," she admits, the shakiness of her voice showing how few times she has said the words aloud. They come out tentatively, as though she's testing them out. "Well my mom still is, I'm not sure about my dad, I haven't seen him in years," she explains, her voice flattening to a more monotone one as she continues. "They weren't always bad but when my little sister got sick it really took a toll on them. We loved her so much, they lover her so much, and they used all they money they had to try and save her, selling our house and cars to pay for her treatment, but it didn't work. She, uh, s-she died when she was only six, I was nine."

A tear rolls down her cheek as she tells this part but she doesn't allow me to wipe it for her, just shakes her head and searches for the right words to say. My head is spinning at this new information but I know I must remain calm and let her finish, there is no point at freaking out at people who aren't even here. Instead my energy should be spent preparing myself because the look on her face tells me there is far more to this story.

"We were pretty much broke at that point and both my parents started pulling away. Their youngest daughter was dead and they couldn't handle it. I sometimes think they forgot I was still there. I like to pretend that's what happened anyway, it's better than them just avoiding me," she still sounds sad but I don't think she's crying anymore. "After all of that they both began drinking, I guessed it helped them forget, maybe just numbed the pain for a while, I don't know. Things were finally starting to get back into a routine, a messed up one but at that point I would have taken anything, until one day when I was 12 I woke up and my dad was gone. The man who raised me, who taught me to ride a bike and was supposed to walk me down the aisle just picked up and left in the middle of the night, not even bothering to say goodbye. I don't really remember the last conversation I had with him but my mom just told me that was for the best and we never mentioned him again. I think that's what hurt the worst, pretending he wasn't real even though everything reminded me of him."

"It was around the time all of that happened that I realized that I was into girls but I kept having to push it to the back of my mind. Whether I was hurt or not by him leaving didn't matter because it absolutely broke my mom. She became even more depressed than she was after my sister's death and most days she could barely pull herself out of bed, let alone look after me. I had to be the on to pick up where he left off, cooking and cleaning up after her, and it proved to be a good distraction to keep my own problems off my mind for a few years. Watching her, spending so much time together, it taught me how to become numb."

I allow myself a moment to think back. Back to elementary school and middle school, back when all of this was happening, just to try and find a sign that anything was the matter. Her sister died, her parents forgot about her, her father abandoned his family. It isn't possible for all of this to happen without some sort of sign. Not necessarily a cry for help but just a sign, the slightest frown, an uncalled for snap at someone.

Thinking back, nothing comes to mind.

"It was really hard leaving my mom to come to school but I knew it was my chance to get away. I applied behind her back, never figuring I would get in or get a scholarship that would allow me to come out here, but I did."

The smallest hint of a smile passes over her face but she quickly stops it, as though her happiness is something she should be ashamed of.

"It's okay," I assure her, using everything I can to comfort her without actually touching her.

Bringing the sleeve of her night shirt to her face, she wipes her nose with it. "That's not all," she whispers, her voice more shaky than before.

It takes a few minutes but I do my best not to pressure her even though I need to know everything. I've known there was something wrong for a while now, subconsciously from that first day I believe, but never could I have imagined it be anything of this caliber.

"I told my mom about the offer the day after graduation," she starts again, having composed herself enough to actually speak the words instead of whisper them. "I was after accepting so there was nothing she could really do about it, I just needed to let her know that I wouldn't be around anymore, but she didn't take it too well and things happened. She yelled a lot, I remember, and I tried thinking about other things to drown her out but somehow I ended up on the floor, her standing over me with a pan, swinging with everything she had. That was the scariest moment of my life. Not because I was afraid of what she would do to me, she was old and weak, I could have stopped her if I wanted. I was terrified of what this meant for my family. She was all I had left and I'd betrayed her. In all those years, it took me threatening to leave for her to show any real emotion towards me. So I let it happen, I let her hit me because I deserved it for being so selfish, for wanting to abandon my family. One of Rachel's father's heard the noises from outside where he was waiting with Rachel to pick me up and he barged in to get her off me. They took me back to their house and that's where I stayed this summer until they dropped me off here. The last thing I heard my mother say to me was that she never wanted to see me again and that is why I'm not going back to Lima, it's just too much."

When she finishes, I look into her tear filled eyes and feel nothing but absolute rage. Rage towards her drunk-ass mother, towards her dead beat father. On her behalf I feel more vindictive than I've ever felt for myself. Those people were her family, out of everyone, they were the ones who were supposed to love her and protect her unconditionally are the ones who hurt her most.

But then I see something else in her eyes. Something that lets me know she never gave in, not even at her worst did she fall to their level. She was stronger than them, still is, and she never once let anything kill her spark. Through it all, she managed to remain true to herself.

I want to tell her how proud I am that she told me. I want to tell her that nothing was her fault, that she did the right thing in leaving to make a better life for herself. I want to tell her that I think she's the bravest person I know. The words to tell her these things, however, refuse to form on my tongue so I settle on something much easier.

"Can I hug you?" I ask, still uncertain if she wants me to touch her.

She looks at me confused but nods her head anyways. Practically jumping up from my chair, I make my way over to her and lean down to her level. When I wrap my arms around her I hear the first sob and before I know it her entire body is shaking and my grip around her tightens. It's not the most comfortable position for me or her, I can imagine, but I don't care. So far, she has been my rock, taking care of me and helping me come to terms with things. Now it's my turn. As much as I don't want her to spend the break alone, I don't want to force her to go back to that place. Maybe I can even convince my parents to let me stay here if I explain the situation. I run my hand through her hair, doing my best to comfort her.

When her body finally stops shaking I'm not even sure how much time has passed, all I know is that my legs are cramped and I'm not even sure if I'll be able to move. That doesn't bother me though. As she pulls back I see her blotchy red eyes and tear stained cheeks and I can't help myself from moving to placing a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Do you want me to run you a bath?" I ask as I try to stand up. It's not as hard as I expected but it still hurts like a bitch.

She doesn't say anything but at her nod I reach out and take her hand in my own. Walking her to the bathroom, I make sure the toilet seat is down before guiding her to sit on it. I leave to grab some clothes for her as I let the tub fill up and when I get back she's still sitting in the same spot, staring blankly at the wall.

Seeing her like this, so completely broken, actually causes me physical pain but the overwhelming urge to cry must be pushed away because she needs me right now.

I lift her off the toilet and, after asking her permission, strip her of the pajamas she's wearing. Gripping her gently, but securely, I guide her into the steaming water. In the small, ceramic tub she looks smaller than I've ever seen her, fragile almost, and I really don't want to leave her alone. Conflicted about giving her some privacy and fulfilling my own need to ensure she's okay, I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room between the tub and the door.

Thankfully, she answers my question. "Could you stay?" she asks timidly, her voice raspier than usual from crying.

Sending her a soft smile, I move to sit on the edge of the tub. I grab a face cloth and some soap, gently bringing it to her body, watching as she relaxes at my touch. As I move the cloth over her clear, pale skin, I can't help but wonder how much her mother really did hurt her that day. Though there are no remains of the physical beating, the emotional scarring has lasted all these months and probably won't fade anytime soon.

Next, I reach for the shower hose to wet her hair so I can wash it. As I run my fingers through her blonde locks, lathering up the shampoo, I feel something inside me that I've never felt before. Sure, I've been intimate with people before but this is so much different. This feels so much more private than anything else I've ever been a part of, more intimate than the act of sex itself. Telling me that story was her way of showing me how much she trusts me, to know her truth but not judge her for it. Not only have I now seen her physically, but emotionally as well.

"I'm really glad you told me," I admit, trying to convey all of my feelings in those six simple words.

"I trust you," is all she says before leaning back, dipping her head beneath the water to wash away the shampoo.

…

Brittany insists she has to go to work that afternoon and no amount of convincing from me is going to change her mind. She said she felt better after telling me and that I shouldn't worry about her.

Fat chance of that happening.

To pass the time, I decide to call my mom to see how upset she would be if I choose to stay here for Christmas. I know it's a big deal for the entire family to get together and I haven't seen any of them since school started, but I'm really uncertain about leaving Brittany alone right now. Watching the snow fall lightly from through the window, I try to figure out what it is I need to do.

"_Mija," _I hear my mom's voice from the other end, _"I was going to call you tonight. Have you booked your flight yet? Your brother and Tracey,"_ I assume that's his girlfriend's name, _"are getting in on the 20__th__ and I was hoping you could get here a day or two beforehand to help me get everything set up."_

Christmas is one of my mother's favourite days of the year and, once she gets to talking about it, it's hard to get a word in edgewise. She gushes about gifts and decorations, about how much she still needs to get done. It's not until she takes a moment to breathe that I'm finally able to butt in. "I haven't booked my ticket yet but-" she's going to hate me but she needs to know, I can't just not show up, "I don't think I'm going to be able to make it for Christmas."

The line goes silent and I think she may have hung up on me. "Ma?" I question, "You still there?"

"_Yes Santana, I'm here," _I can't tell from her voice if she's upset but she undoubtedly is. _"Did something happen? I don't understand, when we spoke yesterday you seemed excited about coming home."_

"I really want to go home, I do," I assure her, "but-do you remember Brittany, my roommate?" Even though our relationship hasn't been labeled, it still feels odd calling her my roommate. We are so much more than that but at the same time I don't know what else to call whatever it is that's going on between us. It's a safe choice.

"_Yes, is she okay?" _she asks, her voice laced with concern.

"She's fine, she's just been going through sort of a rough patch and I don't think it's the best idea for her to be left alone right now. She's staying in the city for the holidays and most of her friends are headed home so I though maybe I should stay with her."

"_Nonsense, bring her home with you. There's plenty of room here for the both of you, it'll be fun."_

"But ma-"

_"No buts, Santana," _she says sternly, letting me know she's being serious._ "Brittany seems like a sweet girl and would really like to get to know the person who is keeping you away from your mother. You two spend so much time together."_

Knowing there is no use arguing with her, I agree to ask Brittany for my mother's sake even if I don't plan on following through with it. I know the real reason Brittany won't agree and if my mother did, she wouldn't want me to pester the girl about it. Spending some time together, just the two of us, in this city could be fun. Relaxing even. It might be a nice contrast to every other Christmas which I've spent with the entire Lopez clan.

After another hour I finally manage to get my mom to hang up and I check the available seats on flights to Lima, per her request. As I scroll I realize how quickly the flights are filling up and waiting any longer could potentially leave me without a flight home if Brittany did perhaps change her mind. In a spurt of the moment decision, I enter papi's credit card number and book two tickets.

Just in case.

…

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Holidays are great and all, but the one thing I loathe more than anything in this life is shopping for other people. Sure, there's also birthdays and graduations that you have to buy people presents for but that's one person at a time, one gift at a time. Christmas shopping is basically a form of torture, worse than all other occasions combined with the added perks of having boisterous crowds singing carols and snatching the last Tickle Me Elmo.

What better way to spread holiday cheer than spending hours, shoulder to shoulder, with a million strangers who won't stop stepping on your feet.

Merry _fucking _Christmas.

In all honesty, I'm not a Scrooge. Christmas is actually really enjoyable, I would be nothing to my mother if I didn't love the time of year, I've just been stressed lately and it's killing my mood. Between keeping Brittany's spirits up and dealing with my mom, it's all been kind of difficult. My mom wants me home with her and my family for the break, which is understandable considering this is the first year I've been away, but as soon as I think about changing my mind, the thought of Brittany sitting alone in our apartment, probably watching some crappy TV specials and eating leftovers on Christmas day crosses my mind and I know I can't leave her.

Having my mom in one ear, telling me she wants me there, and then seeing Brittany, knowing she needs someone around her right now, it's just really hard. Either way, someone is going to get let down and I'm going to feel like absolute crap.

However, that's not the only thing keeping me feeling a little stressed. Finding the perfect gift for the girl I'm dating, who also happens to be my roommate but not my girlfriend, is proving to be somewhat difficult.

Three hours into this shopping debacle and nothing seems just right. Jewelry seems too straight forward, clothing too safe, a giant stuffed unicorn too strange. I want something that's perfect, something that's a combination of those things, something to let her know exactly how I feel. I'll know exactly what to get her once I see it, the only problem with that being I'm beginning to lose hope that it's been invented yet.

Letting out a loud sigh, I shuffle into yet another store without bothering to read what the glowing name outside of it reads. What's the point anymore, there isn't a store in this entire city that has what I'm looking for. I should know, it feels like I've been in every single one by now.

Walking up and down the aisles, I realize I've wandering into another clothing store and I grow even more frustrated at the entire situation. I run my hand through my hair and step back to see if by some chance there is at least one thing I can get for Brittany in this store.

Not noticing anyone behind me, I end up banging into a body, stepping on their foot in the process. Great, now I've become one of _those_ people I love to complain about.

"Shit, sorry," I say quickly, turning to face the person. The woman, who looks only a year or two older than myself, uses her hands to flatten out the front of her shirt and I notice the name tag attached to it.

"No problem," she says, shaking her head back and fourth. "Happens all the time, especially during the holiday rush."

Instead of going back to whatever she was doing beforehand, she remains facing me, a smile plastered on her face. Feeling completely awkward and slightly uncomfortable under the woman's gaze, I give her a nod and turn back to the rack of sweaters in front of me. Maybe Brittany would like a new sweater for those blistering days she's going to have to walk home from school. You can never have too many sweaters when you live in New York.

Feeling a tap on my shoulder, my head quickly shoots sideways to look for whom it belongs. "Do you need any help with anything?" the owner of the voice, the same woman from before, asks.

"I'm good," I tell her, trying to be polite but it's been a long day and she is testing my patience. Not trusting myself to remain calm, I turn from her again, trying to focus on the clothes. I really don't want to get something she's going to hate but at this rate, I might be able to find her something by Easter.

"Can I ask you something?" I hear the woman's voice ring again from behind me as a hand is placed on my shoulder. Shrugging it off, I turn on the balls of my feet to face her. "Feisty," she whispers, though I'm not sure she intended for me to hear it.

Raising my eyebrows, a sarcastic 'what' begging to leave my lips, I bite my tongue to stop it. Whatever the fuck she wants better be pretty damn important.

"I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something tonight?" she asks, obviously ignoring my need for personal space as she steps as close to me as possible without our bodies touching.

"Look, Lady-" I start, walking backwards until my back hits the clothes.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," she says suggestively. Fuck, is this girl coming on to me right now? "I know this club we could go to, grab some drinks, dance. I'm sure you like to dance, don't you?"

She's getting closer again and my head nervously darts from side to side, looking for anyone who can save me from this completely uncomfortable and awkward situation. Of course this would be the one store that isn't overpopulated at the moment. The smell of her perfume fills my nose as she brings her hand to my chin. This girl is flirting with me, flat out flirting in the middle of her workplace. A _woman_ is flirting with me. How does she even know I'm into girls? Is it that obvious, do I smell like a golf course or something? If she can tell, then everyone else must be able to as well. What about my parents? If I go home they'll definitely be able to tell, I mean I'm their own daughter. If some random woman can tell, they sure as hell can.

At those thoughts, my brain goes into full panic mode. My breathing begins to pick up at that though and suddenly it's not just her closeness that's too much. It feels as though the walls are moving in on me, like the fabric of the clothes is stretching itself over my mouth, not allowing air to pass through.

Without thinking, I reach forward and push her off of me before sprinting out of the shop. If anyone is watching, they must think I've stolen something but I don't care. All I can think about is getting out of this place. I need air, I need open space.

Through the crowds, down that stairs, through some more crowds and finally, I'm out. The cold air hits my lungs and a sigh of relief escapes them at the feeling, resting a minute to let my breathing return to normal. That woman knew, she knew about me. That's it for me, I'm done for. So much for coming out on my own terms, apparently I'm too fucking flamboyant to be granted that courtesy.

…

After a overly crowded subway ride and a short walk around the block, I finally see the outline of my building in the distance. As I get closer, I feel my façade begin to fade as my shoulders slump forward. The stresses and length of the day finally start to sink in and I find myself dragging my feet, willing them forward with each step.

"Santana, what's wrong?" I hear a familiar voice call and look up Mr. Simon walking out of the building. The older man lives just across the hall from Brittany and I, and is one of the only other residents whose name I know.

"Everything's fine, Sir," I lie, scuffing my toe in the snow in front of me.

"There are two things wrong with that sentence, young lady. First, I told you never to call me Sir, it makes me feel old," he says with a lighthearted chuckle. The kind only those too young to know the real terrors of the world and those old enough to look past them possess. "Second, I've lived long enough to know when people are lying to me. A pretty girl like you doesn't look so upset unless something is wrong."

At any other point in my life, I wouldn't haven't given the time of day to an elderly man unless he was my waiter at Breadstix and even then it would only be to fill my own personal want. But with Mr. Simon, it's different. I don't know him well but since moving in he has shown me more attention and respect than anyone else I've met since being here. He and his wife, he's told me, have lived here for the past forty years and just don't have the heart to leave, even now that the majority of the building is populated by loud college kids. As depressing as it sounds, he's kind of one of my favourite people in the city.

"I've just had a hard day," I admit, leaning against the cold brick wall. "Gift shopping, dealing with people, it's all just not really my thing."

Slowly making his way over, he leans against the wall next to me. "That's why I always take my wife with me. She does the hard work and I carry her bags for her," he says, the permanent smile on his face growing slightly at the mention of his wife.

My parents have a wonderful marriage and to be able to compare my own to theirs would be awesome but there is something different with Mr. and Mrs. Simon. Maybe it's because I only see them every now and then, because I don't see what goes on behind closed doors, but what they have seems to be something so rare. By the way they look at each other, they seem to know just how precious it is.

"How long have you been married?" I ask, half out of curiosity, half out of wanted to forget my own thoughts.

"48 years," he states proudly, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. He extends his arm to offer me one and I take the small stick between my fingers. "We met at 15 and were married on her 20th birthday. Best decision I ever made."

He lights his first then offers the lighter to me. Regardless of how bad I know it is for me, there is something inexplicably comforting when the smoke from the first draw makes its way into my lungs. The warmth familiar.

"How do you do it?" I blurt, not meaning to sound as anxious as I am. Fidgeting with the cigarette, I raise my eyes to look at him. "I mean, every time I see either of you, you're always smiling and laughing. I just, I've never really thought a relationship could stay like that after all those years."

"Why all the questions?" he asks, nudging my shoulder with his own. "Wanting to take the next step with your girl?"

My eyes bulge out of my head at his words and I choke out smoke. Wow. We must be pretty fucking obvious for an old man to know there's something going on between us. Even though I trust him, the fact that he knows without me having told him makes my stomach turn. "Me-I, I mean," I stutter like and idiot, words not able to form on my lips.

"It's okay," he pats my shoulder, pulling the flaming stick from his lips, "I don't care that you're gay. I've lived in New York my entire life, for Christ sakes."

"It's not that it's just," I start, placing the stick between my lips and rubbing my hands together nervously, the friction also warms them slightly, "I'm not used to people knowing. I don't like that people can see right through me like that."

"Don't worry, child. I don't think you have too much to worry about. I only know because I know true love when I see it."

"We're not, girlfriends or anything," I swallow hard at the words. "Everything with us is kind of new, I don't want to screw it up."

"What makes you think you would?"

"I screw everything up," instantly falls from my lips, the truth of those words not lost on me.

"For what an old man's opinion is worth, I don't think you have anything to worry about. Ask her to be your girlfriend, she won't turn you down. If she does, I'll bake you those pies you love so much, one a week."

"You mean the ones your wife makes?" I ask, mockingly. My cigarette seems to burn away exceptionally quickly so I take it to my lips one final time before dropping it to the snowy sidewalk, putting it out with my shoe.

"Well I suppose I'll learn to bake if it comes down to it," he chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and dropping his butt next to mine. Before walking away, he turns to face me, "but it won't. She'll say yes, I know it."

By the time Mr. Simon is out of sight, I still haven't been able to fully grasp what just happened. Despite the crappy mood I was in not twenty minutes ago, I feel somewhat lighter after our conversation. Having someone else's opinion on my relationship with Brittany as an outsider, hearing him assure me she's in this as much as I am, it's almost refreshing.

…

By the end of the week I'm about ready to throw my phone at the wall. Everyday, at least twice a day, my mother calls, pestering me about coming home even though I've made it abundantly clear that there is little chance I'll be there. I haven't brought it up with Brittany and I'm not going to. I also haven't told her I'm staying here and, though I know it's a fight waiting to happen, I feel like staying is the right choice. I've even started buying a few decorations to put up around the apartment so it will feel like Christmas, even if we don't have all the trimmings.

As I hang up from yet another conversation with my mother, one that she managed to drag papi into, I let out a loud, frustrated sigh and throw my phone onto the couch. It's getting to the point where I'm actually glad to not have to go home and deal with them.

"Wow, telemarketers totally make me feel the same way," Brittany makes her presence known, walking across the room and wrapping her arms around me from behind.

"It wasn't a telemarketer, just my parents," I explain, turning around to face her but not letting her grip on me loosen. "I told them that I'm not going home for Christmas and they didn't take it too well."

"What?" she exclaims, "When did you decided that? It doesn't have anything to do with me does it? You were looking forward to seeing them so much, you have to go!"

The words start to pour out of her mouth so I lift my arms and place them around the back of her neck in an attempt to calm her down. I don't want her getting upset over this.

"I told them a few days ago and they've been badgering me ever since, well mostly my mom but it's still annoying as hell. I just want to spend time with you and missing out on Christmas with them is just a small price to pay," I shrug and she tighten her grip around my waist. She leans down and places a kiss on my lips but pulls back before I can deepen it.

"That's really sweet San," she says but I can sense a 'but' coming, "but," there it is, "if that's the case, why did you order two tickets to Lima?"

I shoot her a confused look, trying to seem somewhat angry that she snooped through my computer, but I mostly fell embarrassed. Embarrassed that I went behind her back, that I was too much of a coward to stand up to my mom and refuse to let her make decisions for me.

"Remember that book we had to read in high school, the one with the boy and the hat and something about grass?" I can't help the smile that breaks across my face at her words. "Well I was thinking about that and then I realized that none of the taxi drivers ever gave the guy an answer as to where the ducks go in the winter. I thought it was awfully rude to keep him waiting so long so I decided to google it but when I opened your computer, I saw the travel website still opened. Now that I think about it, I never did get to search for an answer..." she trails off and I laugh at the seriousness to her tone.

"I bought those because I wasn't sure if you would change your mind and I wanted to be prepared if you did." There's no point in lying to her. "I was never going to pressure you into anything, I wasn't even going to mention it again. You want to stay here and I respect that, I want to stay with you."

"You bought me a ticket?"

"Yeah, my mom insisted that you come stay with us after I told her you weren't going home . She wants you to experience Christmas, full Lopez style, which is a nice gesture but probably not something everyone would enjoy."

Her face softens as she listens to me talk about my mom and then a smile crosses it. "If it's okay with your parents, and you obviously, I think I might like to go to Lima after all," she says, biting her lip nervously. I shake my head to assure her she doesn't have to but she just smiles back. "I've actually thought about it a lot since the other day. I can manage for a few days, it's not like I'll have to see my mom or anything. Besides, it could be fun."

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, still skeptical about this entire thing. I can tell Brittany is sincere but I just hope she doesn't feel pressured into going for my sake.

"Positive," she beams, leaning down to give me another kiss.

This kiss lasts longer than the others and we're soon on the couch, Brittany on top, straddling my hips, and me beneath her with my arms wrapped around her body, gently squeezing her ass. The way her body molds against mine, her lips so gentle yet with a hint of hunger to them, it's all just too much and my senses go into overdrive.

Her hips grind down into mine and the urge to rip off her clothes and take her right here on this couch becomes too much so I pull back. She pouts her bottom lip out at the loss of contact and I can't help but give her another quick peck before propping myself up on my elbows to look up at her.

"Can I ask you something?" As terrified as I am, my voice manages to stay strong.

"Of course." I watch her blue eyes as they stare back at me with wonder.

Clearing my throat, I'm reminded of Mr. Simon's words from earlier. He's the only father figure I have out here, one of the only people I can trust. If he believes in mine and Brittany's relationship, maybe I should too.

"Would you be my girlfriend?"


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N: **I just want to thank all of you for your continued support of this story. Every review, every follower, even every silent reader, it just means so much to me that you would want to spend a few minutes of your day reading this. You guys are amazingly awesome!

And on a side not, not that this really matters much at all, but Rachel's fathers make an appearance in this chapter and for the sake of avoiding confusing, I went off the picture used in the pilot, not the actual actors they cast. I don't really think I did it consciously, that's just who pops in my head whenever I picture her fathers.

Now that that's all cleared up, onto part one of Christmas. Enjoy!

* * *

"_Would you be my girlfriend?"_

When Brittany doesn't immediately respond, I get nervous. My palms begin to sweat so I rub them together to try to distract myself. Maybe it's too soon. I mean, we have been seeing each other for a month now but she might prefer to take things slow. Or maybe she likes to move fast, just not with me. I really wish she wasn't on top of me right now because it would be really hard to make a clean getaway with her weight holding me down. I'm forced to lie here and wait.

Just as I'm about to apologize for asking, she lunges down at me, peppering kisses all over my face. "Is that a yes?" Her kisses cause me to giggle embarrassingly loud.

"Duh," she pulls back before kissing me on the lips. "That's a hell yes!"

"Does this mean I can introduce you to my parents as my girlfriend?"

It must be in the heat of the moment that I discover the courage to ask the question but I don't instantly regret it like I thought I might. Looking over at Brittany, I know exactly what her answer is going to be before she says it. It's a big step and I know she'll understand just how hard it's going to be for me to tell them.

"Are you sure you're ready for that?"

"Positive," I repeat her answer from earlier, earning me a smile in return. "I was thinking only my parents and maybe my brother but I figure it's a start."

"I'm so proud of you," she leans back down to kiss me again.

As much as I don't want to stop her, I have to. The tickets are for tomorrow morning so we should probably pack and get some rest. Brittany reluctantly agrees and we head our separate ways to our bedrooms. I don't even try to suppress the smile on my face as I throw my clothes into my suitcase, I don't think it would make a difference if I tried. Brittany agreed to be my girlfriend and now I'm taking her home to meet my family. It all just seems so surreal but I've pinched myself enough to know it must be happening. As I lay awake in bed later that night, I can't help but feel like everything in my life is finally starting to come together.

…

Still on the high from last night, I wake up before my alarm sounds which is something that never happens. Something else that never happens is me waking up in a good mood but I seem to be defying all the norms this morning as I practically skip out to the kitchen, from where I smell a hint of bacon making it's way throughout the apartment.

If I thought I was chipper this morning, Brittany is on another level entirely. Dancing around the kitchen, I watch her move from stove to counter and back again. Swiftly, with grace only a skilled dancer would possess.

For 5 o'clock in the morning, she sure seems extra spry. Especially considering where we are going to be in just a few hours

"Morning," she greets, plopping a few strips of bacon and a slice of toast down on a plate and handing it to me. It's only then I realize she's already fully dressed with her make-up done.

"You seem awfully energetic this morning," I tell her as I take a seat at the table. She grabs her own plate and takes the seat across from me.

"Well I've never been on a plane before so I think the mixture of nerves and excitedness managed to keep me up," she explains, her words coming out faster than usual due to the excitement. "I'm also used to getting up early when I have to open the shop so it's nothing new."

Shit, Brittany has a job. I almost spit out my mouthful of food when I'm reminded of that. "Britt, don't you have to go to work? I didn't even think about that last night, what if you get fired for not showing up?"

"Slow down, it's fine," she assures, biting off a piece of bacon. "Last night, after you called off our make out session, which I expect to be reimbursed for, I called this girl I work with and got her to cover my shift for today. As for the rest of the time we're gone, when I was mopping around a few days ago my boss practically forced me to write in for some holidays because he hoped they'd cheer me up. He gave me until after the new year off so you don't have to worry."

A relieved sigh escapes my lips before I return my attention to my toast. Everything is going to be fine, I just need to quit worrying.

…

It's about midday when we touch down in Ohio and I'm thankful for finally being able to feel my hand again. As much as I love spending time with Brittany and being as close to her as possible, the girl is definitely a nervous flyer and for the entire duration of the flight she didn't loosen her grip on my hand. Not once. I tried distracting her with the T.V. and the games on her phone but nothing worked. When she spotted land as we started to descend, she about lost it and for a minute I thought she was going to cry. But she's a trooper and as we walk toward the luggage carousel, I can't help but smile at the fact that she seems to have recovered well.

While we wait for out luggage, I check my phone to see a text from my dad telling me that's he's waiting for us. I had sent a text to my mom from JFK this morning informing her that we had finally decided to come but I guess my dad got roped into pick-up duty. I send him a quick text back telling him that we'll be out in a bit before turning back to Brittany. She's watching the luggage pass with such amusement that I can tell how much she wants to jump on with it.

It's not long until she spots hers and pushes her way through the crowd to get it from the carousel. With her bright yellow suit case rolling behind her, she walks back towards with a satisfied grin on her face. I almost consider letting her grab mine as well but I figure it's safer for everyone if I do it myself.

"My dad should be around here somewhere," I tell Brittany as we make our way further out into the airport.

Nodding in response, she takes the hint and our hands remain unattached, an uncomfortable sense of emptiness passing over me. There is nothing I want more than to just reach out and hold her hand tightly, to show Brittany that I'm not afraid. Too bad I am. Aside from this being Lima, homophobic capital of the world, there is also the fact that my father is somewhere in this building and I don't want the car ride home to be awkward.

I'm so stuck in my own thoughts that I don't even see my father standing across the room until Brittany gives my arm a light nudge. Looking up, I spot my dad who has yet to see us. Picking up my pace, I practically run across the remaining distance separating us and wrap my arms tightly around his body.

He's surprised at the contact but returns my hug with a smile nonetheless. Being wrapped in his arms, even though I'm 19, gives me the feeling of absolute protection. The type you only feel as a kid when you're parents are around.

I've missed both my parents, every now and then I have days where I just need to call them to hear their voices, but I never realized the extent to which until I saw my father standing there.

"I missed you, papi," I tell him, pulling back from his embrace.

"You too, mija," he says, pulling me into his side and placing a light kiss on my head. "Hello Brittany, it's nice to see you again."

"Thanks for having me," she smiles brightly.

He offers to wheel our bags to the car but Brittany is enjoying her suitcase far to much to let anyone else touch it. Instead, I hand him mine and we walk to the car together, Brittany on one side of me and my father on the other.

I chance a glance at Brittany and see her goofy smile still plastered on it and I let out a sigh of relief. Hopefully it stays that way for the rest of the trip.

…

Things are in full swing by the time we reach my parents house. As we pull up, I see my brother and a few of my cousins stringing up lights in the tree on our front lawn and as soon as they notice me, they drop what they're doing and run towards us.

"Antonio," I giggle as my brother sweeps me off of my feet, spinning me around in the air.

"I missed you so much," he says, laying my back down on my feet. "I didn't think you were coming, ma said you were staying in New York."

"Change of plans," I tell him as I greet my cousins.

Being here, seeing the house again, my family again, it all seems so surreal.

Realistically, it's only been a few months and things really haven't changed much during that time. The house looks the exact same, same with my family. My creepy cousin Louis is checking out Brittany just as he's done with every good looking girl who's crossed his path throughout his lifetime, and I'd be willing to bet anything that the first step leading upstairs still creeks just as loudly as it has for the past five years.

The feeling is what's different. It's hard to explain but being here again doesn't feel like home. Of course it's familiar and welcoming but that feeling of coming home after a long day at school or a family vacation, that excitement to get back into the house you love so much, back to the room you spend more time in than is probably healthy. That rush doesn't exist here, not anymore. I think that's something solely reserved for the New York apartment now.

I step back next to Brittany and it's only then that my brother notices her. "Brittany, right?" he asks, offering her a smile which she quickly returns with a nod.

He may be able to fool Brittany with his kindness but I know him too well, I can see right through it. Brittany may not have had the biggest reputation around school but being a gay kid in a town like Lima made people talk about you, especially within the halls of that school. Compared to Toni, it was as though I was parading around the school with a pride flag, fighting for equal rights for all. He's kind of an ass.

"I used to go to McKinley too, I was a few years old than you guys but I remember seeing you around. You danced in the glee club with Santana, didn't you?"

I feel my stomach churn.

"Mija," I hear my mother's voice chime and I reluctantly pull my focus from the two of them to look up at her.

"Hey, ma," I say, stumbling back a little at the impact when she wraps her arms around me. "I've missed you.

"You too, you too," she repeats, stroking my hair gently with her hand.

The hug lasts for longer than is actually comfortable but _what the hell_. She's missed me, I've missed her. It's nice to have some contact from someone who isn't Brittany, not that she's bad at it because she's probably the best cuddler I know.

When she finally manages to pull herself away from me, she moves to Brittany who she greets in a similar manner but I don't focus on them. My attention is rather directed at my brother who is looking back at me. _What the hell is his problem?_

"Okay, girls," my mother chimes, "I've set up Santana's old bedroom which should be plenty of room for both of you."

She keeps talking about things, plans for the holidays, meals she wants to prepare, but as we gather our luggage and make our way into the house, I can't knock the feeling that Antonio is definitely not finished with whatever the hell her just started.

…

"Seriously Santana?" Antonio scolds as soon as the door slams behind us. "Brittany, the girl you spent the better part of high school picking on, is here in our house for Christmas. I thought you hated her." His voice is hushed as to not allow the others in the house, mainly a blonde guest, to hear but his words are harsh and they echo in my ears.

Brittany and I were beginning to get settled in my old bedroom, unpacking clothes and looking through some of my old things, when Antonio barged in and asked if he and I could talk somewhere private. Just by the look on his face, I knew that what he wanted to say wasn't something I would enjoy hearing so I was about to decline when he grabbed my arm, squeezing it subtly to let me know he was serious, before excusing the both of us.

"I know how things look but I've changed, we're really close now," I begin but stop myself before I say too much. Letting him know anything more right now would be detrimental to mine and Brittany's day and probably our entire trip. When he is angry about something, you don't ever cross him.

Toni and I were very close growing up. We were also very similar. In high school, while I used cheerleading to put me on the map, he had football and his sea of jock friends that kept him popular. We ruled that school which also meant we brought others down around us. We were bullies and closed minded and, while I've been desperately trying to change that about myself, I can tell he is still clinging to his high school ways.

"She's a dyke Santana," he spits and I can hear the venom in his tone. "I can't believe you would live with her, she's probably going to rub her disgusting, unmoral ways off onto you."

That just about does it for me and I lunge forward, grabbing the collar of his shirt with my two hands. He may be at least a foot taller than me and 150 pounds heavier, but the second he insults Brittany is the second I stop caring about my own safety.

"I don't give a fuck what you think Toni, just stay away from Brittany. She is a guest here and deserves to be treated like one," I yell in his face.

Before he has the chance to react, I'm turning on my heals and heading swiftly out of the room. The door slams loudly behind me. For my entire life I've looked up to him, idolized him even, and in a few short minutes everything I loved about him just seems to gets pushed away. If he's that disgusted by Brittany, someone he barely knows, I'm terrified about how he's going to react when he finds out about me.

I try to calm myself before I get to my room so Brittany won't be able to tell anything is wrong. When I get there, I see Brittany looking around at the few pictures that are still on my walls. I don't say anything, I just watch her from the doorway as she traces over the edges of the glee club picture from sophomore year.

How would things have been different if I had realized back then the things that are only now being brought to my attention? Where would Brittany and I stand? Would I have been on the opposite side of the slushie or would an out cheerleader possibly make things easier for the other kids?

Ha, yeah right.

"I think my mom might need some help baking cookies, you up for it?" I ask from my place in the doorway, slightly startling her. She quickly recovers and with one final glance at the photo, she turns to me and we make our way downstairs.

…

"I like your family," Brittany whispers into my ear later that night.

It's been a long day. Between the early rise, the hours spend traveling, and then getting reacquainted with my family, we were both ready to pass out by 10 o'clock so we excused ourselves from the group to head upstairs. Now, however, with Brittany cuddled tightly to my body, the desire to sleep has been completely crushed.

"This was just day one," I warn her, "wait 'til you meet my grandmother and the rest of my mother's family. You'll be dying to get home by the end of the week."

I look down at her and, through the darkness, I can see she has her eyes closed. She shakes her head back and fourth though, letting me know she's still awake. "You guys all really seen to love each other," she yawns, "I wish my family were more like that."

Her words take me by surprise and I can't think of any type of response. It doesn't matter though, because no more than a minute later I hear her breathing level out and her body goes limp in my arms.

With her words playing over in my mind, I'm finally able to join her in sleep.

…

Telling my parents about Brittany and I proves to be slightly more difficult than anticipated. It's not that I ever expected it to be easy to actually find the words to tell them that their only daughter was in a relationship with another woman, probably crushing their hearts in the process. What I didn't realize was how hard it would be to get them alone.

Preferably, I would have told them as soon as we landed. Doing it then would have given them some time to get over the initial shock and adjust to the idea, but with the constant flow of relatives and friends coming and going, I just haven't been able to find the time to talk to them alone.

Before I know it, Christmas Eve rolls around and I still haven't brought it up with them. Knowing that I'm keeping something from them and not being able to openly display my relationship, I can't help but feel I'm letting Brittany down. I promised both her and myself that I would do this and I'm beginning to get really anxious about the whole thing. Every moment of down time, whenever my brain isn't completely focused on something else, it plays on loop in my mind.

Dinner that night is one of those moments and, as I pick at the food on my plate, I try my best to make my discomfort unnoticeable.

"So Santana," my abuela says, "have you met any nice boys at that school of yours?"

At her words, my body immediately tenses but I manage to shrug the question off, setting the conversation in a new direction, before I start internally freaking out about it. I know my grandmother means well, she is honestly only asking because she genuinely cares, but it still feels like some type of dig at me.

I don't understand why that's the go-to question family asks after they haven't seen you for some time. Why does it matter to them if I have a boyfriend? Wouldn't it make more sense to ask about school, or the new apartment, or my friends? When the topic of a boyfriend is asked first, it makes it seem like that's the most important thing. Like, 'yes, you're at university but you need to make sure you find a nice man to take care of you'. _Fuck that_. I don't need anyone to take care of me, let alone a man. I'm with Brittany because we take care of each other, we support and care for each other equally, but neither of us are fully dependent on the other. It just really blows that they only want to know about boys. It blows even harder to have my girlfriend sitting not two feet away, our knees brushing against each other's, and not be able to tell my abuela that a boyfriend is the furthest thing from my mind right now because I have the most gorgeous girlfriend anyone could ask for.

I don't say anything else for the rest of the meal.

Brittany, being Brittany, sees right through the act so as soon as the plates are being cleared from the night's dinner which my mother and grandmother prepared, she sneaks us away, up into my bedroom to try and calm me down. Reassuring me that she is perfectly okay with hiding us for a few more days, she gently pushes me back onto the bed and lays herself on top of me.

"As long as you're still with me, I don't care who else knows," she whispers seductively in my ear, causing my entire body to shiver.

Our lips meet and everything else flies out of my mind. Since arriving, we've only shared quick pecks on the lips so now, it seems, my senses are heightened. In this moment, nothing else matters except for us to be together and I smile into the kiss, allowing her tongue to find it's way into my mouth.

It's probably not the best idea, with my family just down the stairs, but I can't keep my hands off of her. I bring one hand to settle on her ass while my other one plays with the hem of her shirt. She lets out a moan as my fingertips slide across a patch of naked skin and that's all I need to move my hand up further, cupping her breast over the bra.

"San," she groans, breaking our kiss for a brief second as her head lulls back. This grants me access to the fair skin of her neck and I quickly latch my lips onto it.

For as long as we've been doing this, we've never gone further than this, but tonight I just want to feel closer to her, I need to feel all of her all over me. The ache between my legs increases at the though and I tease her, running my fingers just under the wire of her bra and she seems just as needy as me and places her hand on top of my own, guiding it under the material to cup her. Someone moans, I'm not sure whether it's me or her, though I'm pretty sure it could be me, and that only eggs me on more. Never in my life did I picture myself in this position so I'm not entirely sure what to do. Not wanting to look like a complete idiot, I try mimicking the motions guys have used on me; massaging it gently, flicking her nipple every now and then. She grinds her hips into my leg and I take that as a sign she likes it so I continue.

Her hand suddenly slips under my own shirt, causing me to stop my ministrations out of sheer nervousness, but a knock on my bedroom door followed by the sound of it opening has us pulling our hands away and Brittany flying back off of me.

"Shit, sorry guys," I hear Tracey say before the door slams behind her.

As thankful as I am that it wasn't either of my parents or Toni at the door, I don't know Tracey well enough to be confident she's not going to rat me out to my brother. Planting a quick kiss on Brittany's temple and shooting her a half smile, I slip out of the room to find Tracey.

"Tracey, can I talk to you?" I call to the girl who has quickly made her way to the staircase. Once she turns, I can see how embarrassed she looks. The closer she gets, the easier it is to see the bright red blush on her face.

"I'm sorry about that, your mom told me to get you guys for dessert. I should have waited for you to open the door, it was rude of me to barge in like that. I didn't know you guys were even together, Toni never mentioned it to me," she rambles on nervously. "I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I tell her, equally as nervous, "but would you mind not telling anyone what you saw? My family doesn't exactly know about me, or about Britt and I, and I kind of want to tell them myself."

She looks confused at first but gives me a warm smile that makes me feel slightly better. From the past couple days or so since I've been here, I've gathered Tracey is a pretty nice person. She seems really sweet and I have no idea why she's with Toni but she seems sincere and I trust her when she promises not to say a word.

"You guys make a cute couple," she states before turning from me to head back down to the rest of the family.

Not really sure what else to do, I end up nodding to an empty space before turning back to my old bedroom.

"What happened?" Brittany asks when I get back inside the room. She's sat cross-legged on the bed so I make my way over to join her, mirroring her position.

"She promised not to say anything, so there's that," I explain and Brittany nods her head.

She looks concerned but I know it's for me and not because she's worried about herself. She is out, everyone who loves her knows that she's a lesbian and she's comfortable with that. I, on the other hand, am still very much in the closet. When I come out it needs to be on my own terms not because someone else forces me to.

"We should probably get back downstairs though." It kills me to say it but I'm really on edge right now and the mood has definitely been killed. "Apparently desert is being served and we could do a lot worse than Tracey walking in on us."

She looks slightly upset, or maybe it's sexually frustrated, but I know she understands. When she stands I gently smack her ass, getting her to smile again. I want this Christmas to be memorable for both of us and no amount of drama is going to affect that. We walk hand in hand until we get to the top of the stairs where we both let go and we head down to join the others.

…

"Good morning," Brittany chimes, stirring me from my state of sleep.

Forcing my eyes open, I see that it's still not light outside and let out a groan. I try turning my face into the pillow to will myself back to sleep but she starts bouncing on the bed, making it impossible.

"It's Christmas morning," she beams, putting her hands on my shoulders to shake me. "You can't go back to sleep, it's too exciting."

Knowing there is no way I'm going to be getting anymore sleep, I push myself up to sit next to her. Even with her bed head and no makeup, I can't resist the urge to place a light kiss to her lips. "I'm gonna go brush my teeth," I tell her before sprinting out of the room.

Yes, I want to kiss her without my mouth tasting like the bottom of a sewer, but I also needed to slip away for a minute to compose myself. Today is going to be a long ass day. With family, and friends, and then dinner with the Berry's, I know it's going to be completely draining. What's going to make it even harder is keeping my hands to myself whenever Brittany's in the room.

"Good morning," she repeats as I reenter the room, moving swiftly across the floor to meet me at the door.

"Hmm," I hum before wrapping my arms around her and kissing her.

Being the coward I am, along with being completely paranoid, I pull back much sooner than either of us would have liked but she doesn't protest. Instead she just leads us to the bed so we can sit down.

"I was thinking we could maybe exchange gifts before everyone else wakes up," she suggests. "My reactions are hard to control sometimes and I don't want to do anything to give us away in front of your parents. I also just really want it to be a kind of private moment, if that's alright with you."

Nodding my head furiously in agreement, I pull her in for another quick kiss. I don't what's with this girl but for some reason I just can't keep my hands off of her. Or my lips.

"Okay," she nods and I can hear a hint of nervousness in her tone. "Did you want to go first or should I?"

Her question leaves me feeling slightly nervous as well but I decide I might as well go ahead. If she hates it, there's not really much I can do at this point.

Hopping off the bed, I rummage through one of the discarded suitcases in the corner. It took three full days of shopping, more than a few breakdowns, and a call or two to Rachel before I settled on this but I think she's going to like it. Hopefully.

"Here you go," I smile, handing her the package. Her eyes light up as she inspects it, turning it over and feeling along the edges for any sign of what it contains. "Just open it," I laugh. "I promise it won't bite of anything."

That's seems like all it she needs to hear because soon what little wrapping paper was covering the box is flying across the room. Holding the small box in her hand, she brings her hand to the top to gently remove it. "San," she whispers as it's content is revealed.

Although I initially wrote jewelery off of my list of potential gifts, the second I saw this locket sitting in a shop window, I knew I had to buy it for her. Attached to a thin, gold chain was a heart shaped locket. From a normal person's perspective, it looked like any typical locket, but the difference with this one was why I knew Brittany needed it. Instead of opening on a hinge, this locket broke apart in two. When opened, the inside contents are revealed for everyone to see.

"Do you like it?" I ask hopefully, playing with my hands nervously in my lap.

"Of course I do, San," she beams, lifting her eyes off the locket for the first time to meet mine. "This is so beautiful."

"Yeah, I thought you'd like it," I agree. "There is actually something-wait, can I see that for a minute?"

Cocking her head to the side, she hands me the necklace and I use my fingers to open it for her. Inside, three little words are visible.

"Brittany and Santana," she reads the engravement.

"I was thinking that when we finally tell people, you could maybe wear it open like that. You don't have to or anything, I just thought that it could kind of symbolize my dedication to you, to let you know that this isn't something I want to hide forever."

I feel vulnerable admitting that to her but her smile gives me reason to believe I'm just being a complete idiot. She likes her gift, I actually managed to buy her something she likes. I should be giving myself a pat on the back, not worrying about a reaction she very obviously didn't have.

"Okay, my turn," Brittany says, jumping off the bed to find an envelope stuffed in a drawer.

I eye it curiously before taking it from her. She just continues smiling widely as I rip the envelope open to reveal the card inside.

"_Merry Christmas Santana_," I read aloud, looking at the cover of the homemade card.

Along with the letters, there is also a drawing of a Christmas tree and two unicorns standing next to it donning Santa hats. Smiling warmly at her, I open the card and I feel my breath hitch as I see what's inside.

"Britt," I say breathlessly. My eyes stay glued to the paper but I know if I looked at her right now, she would have a huge smile on her face. "_San_," I start reading again, "_I know you told me you didn't really play music anymore but I thought that might change if you actually had something to play. I saw you looking at this that day at the garage sale and I knew you needed to have it. Hopefully you will play it for me someday._"

She signed off the letter with a few hugs and kisses but my eyes are too filled up to see them properly. Blinking rapidly to try and clear then, one falls onto the card, smudging the picture taped inside. It's of the piano. I feel more tears quickly begin filling my eyes.

Happy tears, this is a new development.

"This is incredible, Britt," I tell her, still in awe that she bought something so thoughtful.

Blushing slightly, she shakes her head back and fourth. "You really seemed to like it so I made some excuse about losing my phone so I could run back and buy it for you. I've been storing it at one of my friends house's but they promised to bring it to the apartment as soon as we call."

Unable to do anything else, I wrap my arms tightly around her body and hug her. "I love it, Britt. Thank you so much."

"I love your gift too, San."

A soft tapping on the door interrupts us and the sound of my father's voice can be heard clearly through the piece of wood. "Girls, are you awake yet?"

"Yes, papi," I tell him, using the sheet on the bed to wipe the tears from my eyes.

"Your mother just started in on breakfast so it should be ready in about a half hour or so. I just wanted to make sure you were up."

"Okay," I tell him.

Waiting until his footsteps can't be heard anymore, I turn to Brittany with a sly smile on my face.

"What?" she asks through a laugh.

"30 minutes until breakfast," I repeat, "You know what that means?" Completely confused, she just shakes her head back and fourth. "We have 30 minutes to cuddle. What do you say?"

Instead of a verbal response, she just wraps her arms around and we both fall back into the bed.

…

By the time we leave for Rachel's fathers' house that evening, I'm glad to be getting away from all the chaos and noise at my parents house. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but there is only so much of them I can take at a time.

Both Brittany and I are completely worn out from the long day so neither of us say much during the car ride but our hands remain intertwined on the center console. As much as I try to keep my eyes on the road, they keep glancing down at our joined hands. Something about it just seems so perfect, like our hands were made for each other's and we're never supposed to let go.

After only a few minutes of driving, because really how far can you drive and stay within town limits, we pull up to the house Brittany directed me to. It's a nice size, not quite as extravagant as my parents' place but still very classy, and I can't help but realize just how normal it looks. I don't know why I thought it would look different, it isn't something I've actively thought about, but I've heard people talk about the Berry's around this town. Never did I expect their home to look so…normal.

Brittany pulls me out of my trance by opening her door and I mimic her actions. We exit the car and make out way up the driveway but before we get to the door she takes my hand back into her own. My first instinct is to pull back but I don't, it just feels too right.

"I think we should tell them," she says with uncertainty, causing it to come out as more of a question. Her eyes look into mine, searching for a sense of how I'm feeling about her proposal. "These two men are like my parents, more than the actual ones, and they don't care that we're both girls." She gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, "obviously," she adds. "And Rachel knows, so I think this could be a good test run for you, it might help you see that not everyone is terrible about it."

There isn't much I wouldn't do for Brittany so it takes little convincing until I agree. She's right, no one in there is going to judge us and it might actually be good for me. I'm Santana fucking Lopez, I can do this.

My hand sweats like crazy but I don't let my grip on hers falter. Waiting for someone to open the door is one of the single most exciting and nerve wrecking moments of my life and I'm disappointed when Rachel answers the door. I worked up all of that confidence for Berry, great.

"Hello Brittany, Santana," she says in her usual bubbly voice. "I'm glad you could make it this evening, I know there must be plenty of Christmas festivities for you to participate in but my fathers just couldn't wait to see Brittany again and finally meet this Santana I've told them so much about. All good things, I promise."

"Yeah, that's great Berry, but can we please get out of the fucking cold now?"

"Oh, I apologize," she moves into the house to allow us enough room to join her. "How rude of me to leave our guests out in the cold."

When she goes to hug Brittany she notices our intertwined hands and smiles at me but doesn't mention it which I'm glad for. After all of this time she's finally learned when to keep her mouth shut, at least some of the time.

She hugs me and when she pull back I see two men standing behind her. I've seen them around at glee competitions before but I've never taken a good look at them. One of them is a smaller man with glasses and the other a much taller, strong looking guy. The smaller man has a large smile plastered on his face and there's no doubt about where Rachel gets it from.

"Brittany," the larger one says as he reaches his arms, engulfing her body with his own. "We missed you around here, the place isn't quite the same."

"You too, Leroy," she says hugging him back.

I make a mental note of his name as I stand there awkwardly, my hand still gripping Brittany's tightly. Rachel's other father makes his was over, pushing his husband out of the way, and hugs Brittany. If I didn't know any better I would think that this was their daughter, the way they welcome her. I'm really glad that Brittany has a family in them, even if her own are shitty. I can already feel my heart warming for the Berry men.

After their greetings to Brittany, they finally seem to notice me standing there but before I get the chance to introduce myself Rachel takes over and does it for me.

"Dad, daddy, this is Santana, the girl I've been telling you about. She's Brittany's-" she looks at both Brittany and I, silently asking what she should call us.

"I'm Brittany's girlfriend," I tell them, only then unlacing my hand from Brittany's. Stepping forward, I extending it to them.

Wow, meting the parents. Definitely not something I've ever done before, or pictured myself doing. For those few seconds my hand is raised in thin air, I feel every muscle in my body tense up. Good to know clichés exist such for a reason.

Leroy is the first of the pair to move, taking my hand and shaking it firmly, but I can tell by the way he's looking at me that there's something else to it. I don't have much time to think about it however, as the smaller man waves my hand away and hugs me much like he did Brittany.

"Let's get to the dinning room before the food gets cold, shall we?" he suggests as he pulls back from our embrace.

Rachel and her two fathers walk further into the house and I begin to follow until I realize that Brittany isn't behind me. When I look back to the porch I see her smiling so bright, eyes glistening with amazement.

"San, you did it." She's practically gleaming at me.

"I did."

"How does it feel?"

I think about her question for a minute, a smile breaking across my face. It feels pretty incredible saying it out loud but the it's much the same feeling I got when I told Quinn or even Brittany. What really makes me smile is seeing how happy it made Brittany.

"It feels fucking amazing," I tell her truthfully, leaning in to give her a quick kiss. "Now let's get in there before Rachel catches us making out."

…

Dinner is actually really good considering my appetite is pretty much nonexistent after eating so much during lunch but the Berry men know how to cook. Even though I made a big deal about eating the tofurkey, they were even able to make that taste decent though I'd never admit that out loud because Rachel will never let me hear the end of it. Even the traditional Jewish dishes they had weren't too bad.

Conversation flows throughout dinner and I really like watching Brittany like this. She is just so comfortable and at ease around these people, and I love that she wanted me to meet them. Rachel's father, the one who told me to call him Hiram, is making me feel like I'm just as much a part of this family as the others even if that does include trying to make me sing a duet with him on the karaoke machine Rachel whips out after dinner.

Her other father, Leroy, though I'm still afraid to actually address him by his name, isn't as welcoming and I'm beginning to think he doesn't really want me in his house. I try to ignore him and enjoy my night but every now and then I spot him glaring at me from across the room. It's impossible to relax when I can feel his gaze burning into me.

Aside from Leroy practically giving me the death glare, the night is surprisingly fun. Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting when I came here but it definitely wasn't this. Considering my current relationship status, it's probably a little stereotypical to admit that I wasn't expecting things to be as normal as they are. Sure, there was karaoke and more references than I could keep up with but that's just the way Rachel is. To be able to see such a normal night with this family makes me feel almost better. Like, just because I'm with a woman doesn't mean I can't have a storybook life. Not that a white picket fence is how I pictured my life turning out, but it's comforting to know it's still an option.

"I think it's time we headed out, it's getting late," I hear Brittany say after Rachel finishes her fifth solo, another Broadway classic that I was scolded for not knowing. I lift my head off Brittany's shoulder where it's been resting for the better part of a half hour and let out a yawn.

Quickly, I say my goodbyes and then stand back to allow Brittany to get her proper goodbyes in. I know how much she hates leaving people and these are men she hasn't seen in months. This could be a while.

When she finishes with Leroy and moves to wrap her arms around Hiram, the larger man walks over to me. I feel my body immediately tense up. I try to remain as calm as possible, not wanting to show any sign of weakness, but I fail miserably. He could probably send me running by saying a simple _'boo'. _

"Could I speak with you a moment," he asks politely but that's probably only to lure me in so he can kill me. This is it, this is how I go.

Not trusting my words, I follow him away from the others and into the kitchen.

Standing in front of the man is terrifying and I'm not even sure what he wants yet.

"I know who you are," he starts, his deep voice intimidating. "You went to school with them and you made their lives a living hell, you and your little friends."

Lowering my head, I break eye contact with him, instead choosing to look at the floor tiles. I should have known Berry couldn't keep her damn mouth shut. Immediately I feel bad for thinking that about her, especially in her own home in front of her father. It's not her fault, I know that, but maybe if I can force myself to be angry at her this conversation won't make me feel like shit.

"For years you made them suffer and cry. Do you know how hard it is to try and comfort your daughter and tell her everything is going to be okay after she comes home with a slushie stained shirt and blood shot eyes? To know that as hard as you try you still can't protect her from all of the bullies who are so insecure they need to pick on her to feel better about themselves?"

He sounds furious and I can't even bring myself to look up at him. Like the coward I am, I continue to stare at the floor and listen to the hurt and anger in his voice. At least now I know why he was being so cold towards me all night.

"Rachel made me promise I wouldn't say anything about this but that was before I knew you and Brittany were together. When I heard that I knew I had to talk to you because she deserves someone who will look out for her." He sounds very protective but I can still her the anger in his voice.

"Yes sir, I know I've been terrible to both of them but-"

"No, just let me finish, please." I look up and see the concern on his face and just nod. "I know people can change, I'm living proof of that. I was a jock back in high school, I used to beat up the losers and the gay kids, and not a day goes by that I don't regret doing it." I nod my head again, this time in understanding. "Someone gave me a second chance and allowed me to be the person I was, not the person I pretended to be back then, and now you have that chance. I don't really like the idea of threatening a kid but I need to, for both Brittany and Rachel's sake. Don't mess with them, don't screw them over," he says firmly, "especially Brittany. She has had a lot of crap thrown at her and this is her chance at happiness. Don't hurt her."

It's as though this man makes me lose my ability to speak so I just nod my head again. Seemingly satisfied with my response, he turns to walk back to the living room but I know I need to do something to ensure he believes me, that he trusts me enough with the two women he loves.

"Sir," I say so quietly I'm not even sure he can hear it.

He apparently does and turns to face me.

"I'll do my best, with both of them," I assure him, seemingly finding the courage to actually speak for myself. "Brittany and Rachel are the two best friends I have in New York and I need them as much as they need me. They've helped me figure out who I really am and I am so grateful for that, you have no idea."

I see the start of a smile form on his face but he quickly catches it.

"As for Brittany, god," I start, trying to find the perfect words to describe how I feel for her. It's a near impossible task. "I've only recently got to know her but I can't help how I feel towards her. I kick myself for not seeing how special she was back in high school and taking a chance on her. She makes me feel things that I've never felt before and it honestly scares the shit out of me but I don't know who I'd be without her. I think I-" I stop myself. I've never let the thought cross my mind before but now that it has it seems so obvious. "I think I love her, sir, and I will do whatever it takes to make sure she never gets hurt again, not by me or anyone else."

I watch his face, trying to spot any change in expression to see what he's thinking but he remains still. Then he looks me directly in the eye and says "that's all I ask," before giving me a quick smile and leaving the room.

Standing in the kitchen like an idiot, completely dumbstruck by everything that just happened, I run my hands through my hair. I love Brittany. I'm in love with Brittany the way my parents love each other, in the very adult way that makes everything mean so much more. Never did I think I was capable of this kind of affection towards another person. Growing up I always assumed I would meet a rich man, get married, and live off his money while he whored his way around. Things just feel different now, more serious. Not in a bad way though, in a good way, like I finally have hope for the future. I can finally think about the future and actually know what I want.

Officially, we've been together only a few days and even unofficially it's only been two months or so. It's overwhelming, all of these feelings happening so soon, but I know what I feel. I'm trusting myself to know that this is the real thing, not some carbon copy or sick mind trick.

I'm in love with Brittany Pierce.

Heading to the bathroom, I quickly compose myself before joining the others back in the living room. Brittany seems to be finishing up so I stand in the doorway, watching her as she gives Leroy one final hug before taking my hand and leading me out of the house.

...

"How did you like it? Did you have fun? Aren't they just the best?" Brittany gushes as soon as we're seated in the car.

I can't help but laugh at her excitement.

"I actually really enjoyed myself, they're both really nice people. I'm glad you wanted me to meet them," I tell her, trying to convey how much it really meant that she felt good enough about us to introduce me to her family, something I was too chicken shit to do. "Hiram is so much like Berry it's actually scary, when they did that duet I could barely stop myself from laughing. Their facial expressions, their actions, she's like his clone."

"I know. They're really close, I think that's why Leroy and I get along so well. He felt kind of like the outsider and so did I. That just led us to be very close. I love Hiram but Leroy has always felt like the father I never had, I don't know how to explain it," she says with complete adoration. This explains why he was the one of the pair to come after me.

"He's the one who found you that day," I muse absentmindedly, not realizing what exactly I'm saying.

Averting her eyes, she offers me a nod and I know it's not the time or place to talk about that.

"He seems like a great guy," I tell her, "I can tell he truly cares about you." My voice must falter as I say this because as soon as the words are out of my mouth, Brittany looks concerned.

"What did he say to you? I thought Rachel made them promise not to say anything mean to you. I'm going to go back in there and make him apologize." She reaches her hand out to open the door but I tell her to stop and put my hand on her shoulder, holding onto to her, not hard enough so she couldn't leave but enough to let her know I don't want her to.

"He was seriously amazing, Britt. I mean, nothing he said was wrong and I think I needed to hear it," I say honestly. I see her relax at the words but she doesn't seem entirely convinced. "He even made me realize some things, things he kind of forced me to come to terms with."

"Oh, yeah?" she asks softly. She turns her body so she's facing me. "What's that?"

_Fuck, _I think as I try to find a way out of this. Brittany deserves romance, she deserves to have everything perfect, and I'm fairly certain telling her I love her for the first time in Berry's driveway is the opposite of all of those things. But I love her, so much. I watch as she bites her lip in amusement, probably at my loss for words, but it is seriously the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen.

I can't control myself anymore. I'm doing this.

"That I-" The words catch in my throat but I'm not going to let anything stop me. "I love you, Britt."

For a split second I think it may have been too soon but that's all the time I'm allotted to think about it because Brittany is soon on my lap, kissing me hard. Her tongue soon finds it's way into my mouth and her urgency is making my head spin.

"I love you too," she whispers breathlessly, now pressing soft kisses along my neck.

Pulling back, she looks straight into my eyes. Her face is flushed and her smile wider than I've ever seen. I can't help but bring her if for another quick kiss. "I'm so fucking in love with you," I reiterate, loving the way it sounds coming from my mouth and the look on her face when she hears it.

"You too," she smiles, "but I think we should get out of here. Rachel and her fathers are just inside and they could sneak a peek whenever they wanted."

A small sigh of disappointment leave my lips when I feel her lift her weight from my body but I know she's right. It's just the thought of having to go back to my house and pretend like we're only friends that makes me hesitant to leave, it feels like I'm taking a giant leap backwards.

Starting the car, I reach out to take her left hand into mine. "You think we could drive around a little bit before going back to my parents?" I ask, "I just want to spend a little more time just the two of us."

"I'd like that," she says with a smile.

We drive through the snow covered streets, hands clasped together, talking. We don't talk about anything major or of any importance, we just say whatever comes to mind and I have to smile at how right it feels.

When we finally pull into my parent's driveway an hour later, we're both exhausted but I can't stop smiling and neither can she. We walk to the door, hand in hand, but drop them as soon as we get there. Today was probably one of the best days of my life and, even though my parents still don't know about us, everything seems too perfect for me to be upset by that. Maybe Ms. Pillsbury was right, maybe this is the perfect set up.


	12. Chapter 11

"Mmm," I hum as I feel Brittany snuggle into my side.

Opening my eyes to take in the sight before me, I'm met with a messy head of blonde hair splayed across my chest and Brittany's arm wrapped tightly around my waist. The house is dead quiet but the rays of sun forcing their way through my blind make me believe that won't last long.

Basking in the moment while I still can, I wrap my own arms around the body on top of mine, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. If I've learned anything from these past few nights of sleeping in the same bed, it's that Brittany likes to cuddle. More specifically, she likes to be cuddled, and I have no problem doing that. I never realize before but I actually really enjoy being the big spoon, it makes me feel like I'm protecting her or something.

"I could get used to this."

The sound of her sleepy voice startles me and she chuckles into my side. "Me too," I agree, bringing my hand to her head to run my fingers through her hair. I could definitely get used to this.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asks in a whisper, looking up at me. I nod into her head and she lets out a small laugh. "This is the first year I didn't pretend to believe in Santa."

As much as it should, her confession doesn't really surprise me in the slightest. Not because she's immature or gullible or anything, but because I remember junior year when the entire glee club had to go to the perverted Santa at the mall just so Brittany wouldn't realize he was a fake. I had nightmares about that guy for months.

"What do you mean?"

"Since I was nine I've always acted as though I had no idea the guy wasn't real," she starts, sitting up on the bed. "The year my sister died, my parents were kind of sidetracked and didn't remember to buy me any presents. When I woke up on Christmas morning and ran out to see nothing under the tree that I had to put up by myself, I started crying and my dad explained what had happened, either not realizing or just not caring that I didn't know Santa wasn't real. He took me shopping a few days later and bought me some things from my list but I didn't want them anymore. It kind of felt like my childhood had been slipping away from me ever since my sister died and then to find out that one of the greatest parts of it had been a complete lie? It confused my head a little bit so I decided to pretend I didn't know any better. Seeing houses lit up with lights, getting my picture taken with Santa, it just made me feel like a kid for a while. It reminded me of when times were happier."

It's moments like these that make me realize how wrong all of the people who have doubted Brittany are. She is one of the most complex, interesting, and just plain strong people I have ever met and she doesn't deserve anything that people throw at her. Yes, she may pretend to believe in Santa Clause and unicorns but if you actually got to know her, you would realize that it's all just a cover up. She uses those things to mask her pain, to bring herself back to a time when she had a childhood. One that was ripped away from her much too soon.

"This year, I didn't have to pretend because I'm actually happy. By not giving up on me and inviting me back here with your family, you gave me a Christmas I didn't want to block out. This one I want to remember for exactly what it is."

Without saying anything, I sit up in the bed next to Brittany and wrap my arms around her. "I love you."

"I love you too but I don't wanna get up yet," she whines, taking a hold of my arm to pull me back into the bed. "Can't we just stay here like this all day?"

That sounds amazing but- "Girls?" I hear my mother call from outside the door and instantly jolt away from Brittany.

"What?" I say, avoiding looking towards Brittany so she can't see how embarrassed I feel for my actions.

"We're going to your aunt's house at 12 so be ready, it's almost 10 now," she reminds us and soon the sound of her feet walking away can be heard.

"That is why we can't stay in bed," I tell Brittany, turning to face her again. "Boxing day is almost as big of a deal as Christmas in this family."

…

_Silent night, holy night_

Swiftly, with a grace I didn't even know I still possessed, my fingers run over the keys of my aunts grand piano. My abuela is standing behind me with her hands on my shoulders, singing along with a few of my younger cousins, and Brittany standing silently next to them.

When the song comes to an end, a few people clap and I turn to face the group.

"You're so awesome," Brittany beams, taking a seat on the bench next to me. "I had no idea you could play that well."

Shrugging, I fight the urge to wrap my arm around her. "Why didn't you sing along?"

Now it's her turn to shrug. "Singing has never really been my thing," she explains. "In glee I mostly sang backup and danced, that's what I'm good at."

"I like your voice," I admit truthfully.

Not including the solos I've heard her sing in glee, her singing voice is something I'm grown very familiar with after living with her for the past few months. Showering, washing the dishes, dancing. No matter what she's doing Brittany is always singing to herself. Sometimes, it's barely a whisper, maybe just a hum. But other times she belts her heart out like she's the next Mariah Carey.

I love it.

"Hey San, Brittany," Antonio greets, making his way over to us.

The living room has cleared out since I've stopped playing, leaving the three of us alone with an unwelcome tension. Aside from a few greetings in passing, I haven't really spoken to my brother since our argument. It makes me kind of sad that we're fighting because I know this is probably the last time we'll see each other for the next few months, but at the same time it makes me really uncomfortable to be in his presence.

Brittany shifts uncomfortably next to me and I hope Toni takes the hint and leaves us alone.

"What are you girls up to in here?" he asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

I've never realized how intimidating he is. No wonder he ran McKinley, anyone would be a complete idiot to stand up to him.

"Just talking," I say as nonchalantly as I can muster.

"About?" he questions.

"None of your business," I spit. God, he really knows how to get on my nerves. "What are you doing in here? Why aren't you out with the rest of the guys?"

"Got bored," he replies. I watch as his eyes shift to Brittany and I want to reach out and slap the smirk off his face. His hand reaches out towards her and Brittany slides back as far as she can on the bench but he keeps reaching until he grabs a hold of her locket. "Pretty," he muses, stoking it with his thumb. "Where'd you get it?"

Brittany's worried eyes find mine and I offer her a weak smile. I wish I could get her out of this but getting Antonio angry right now will help no one.

"Santana," she says weakly, "she gave it to me for Christmas."

Nodding, he lets go of it and I Brittany lets out a sigh. He doesn't make any move to leave though and I'm just about ready to tell him off when I see Louis pop his head around the corner.

"Santana, do you and Brittany want to play pool against me and Manny?" he asks, "We've already bet everyone else, even this guy."

"Sure," Brittany answers for me and I can tell she's just anxious to get out of the room.

"Awesome," he says before sprinting out of the room to tell his brother.

Brittany and I aren't far behind him, leaving Toni alone without even a goodbye.

…

"Kids, dinner's ready," I hear my uncle call to us from upstairs and the boys immediately rush to be the first to get food.

"Some things never change," I say with a laugh as Brittany and I, along with Tracey and a few others, follow slowly behind.

The kitchen is absolutely packed and I'm pretty sure there are not this many people in my family. Looking around, I try to spot my mother but I have no luck.

"It's buffet style," papi says, seemingly popping out from nowhere. "Here's a plate. The line starts back there behind Manny."

Thanking him, I offer to take Brittany's plate so I can get her some food and she can go find us a seat. Sounds like a good plan, right? Wrong, because as soon as I'm through the line I see Brittany seated at a small table with my mother and brother. Letting out a sign, I carry the two plates over and hope for the best.

"So ma, did you see the locket Santana bought Brittany for Christmas?" I hear Antonio ask and I send him a glare, taking the only available seat which happens to be next to him. Why can't he ever let things the fuck go?

Shaking her head, her eyes dart down to Brittany's chest. "It's beautiful, honey," she says, reaching out to touch it. I can't help but smile when Brittany doesn't flinch away from her like she did my brother. "What's inside?"

"N-nothing," Brittany stammers.

"Yeah. I mean, she only got it yesterday, she hasn't really had much time to put anything in it," I say, handing Brittany's plate across the table to her.

"Well it is a very nice necklace," my mother tell us, admiring it again before letting it go. "I heard you bought Santana a piano?"

I watch as Antonio practically spits his food out of his mouth but Brittany doesn't let it affect her. "Yeah," she replies, "we saw it a few weeks ago and San really seemed to like it. She only played a few times during glee rehearsals but I thought she might get back into it if we had one around the apartment."

"That's so thoughtful," my mother says, eying both us us. In this moment I'm actually glad she doesn't know Brittany's gay because this looks slightly suspicious. Especially if the look on Antonio's face is anything to go by. "She really is quite good. She was always way ahead of her age level when she attended lessons."

"Okay mom," I say with a laugh, trying to push the subject of conversation away from me.

Forking a spoonful of potato into my mouth, I look across the table at Antonio to see Tracey talking to him about something. I don't know what she's saying I'm just thankful she's keeping him occupied. Even though she found out by accident, I think having her as an ally as well as a watch dog has proved to be one of the best things to happen on this entire break.

I actually like her as a person which sucks a little because I know one of these days she's going to come to her senses and dump Toni's ass.

…

"Do you think we could maybe slip away tonight?" Brittany ask, snaking her arms around me from behind.

Instinctively, my head shoots up to look around the room but thankfully no one has followed us into my parent's kitchen. There are only the six of us here for once and we just got home. I'm sure everyone has much better things to do with their time than follow us around. I hate that rush of panic that still happens every time she touches me.

"Of course," I say with a smile, now that I know the room is clear. "What did you have in mind?"

Leaning her head down on my shoulder, she blows softly at my ear. "I just want some alone time with my girlfriend," she says in a breathy tone that almost makes my knees give out. Damn, my girlfriend is sexy. "There is also someone I kinda really want you to meet, I mean if you're up for that. We can totally just relax around here for a bit if you're too tired."

Curiosity kicks in at her words and my mind instantly begins to roam, trying to think about who it is she could possibly be talking about. She wouldn't take me to meet her mother, would she? No, she definitely wouldn't do that. At least not without warning me first.

Maybe she has other family, like an aunt or grandparents, that she's really close with. If that's the case, then where were they when her mother was using her as a human punching bag? I hope that's not the case because my rage is not something I have very much control of.

"I'd love to meet them," I finally say, turning around to smile at her. "We can leave as soon as dinner's over. Does that sound good?"

"Mmm," she hums before leaning down to give me a kiss.

As soon as I feel her lips on mine, I feel my body start to give in. All of my walls that have been up today and quickly crumbling and it's kind of terrifying to think about. I need to be on my toes right now. At the smallest sound I need to be ready to pull away from her and act as though nothing was going on in the first place. But she's just so god damn talented with those lips of hers.

"Two second warning," I hear a voice call as someone enters the room and we quickly separate. I don't know if it's more reassuring or depressing that even her lips can't ease that panic.

The voice belongs to Tracey and when I look at her she just has a knowing smirk on her face before moving to take some things out of the fridge.

"Mija, Brittany. Would you like to help with dinner?" my mother asks, entering the room just after Tracey. "I promised Tracey I'd teach her how to make some of your abuela's old dishes if you'd like to help."

"I'd love to, Maribel," Brittany beams, moving over to the sheets of paper my mother has pulled from an old cook book. "Maybe I can learn to make some things for you, San. I'm sure you like your mom's cooking way more than mine."

"You cook awesome, Britt," I assure her with a smile. "But I think I'm going to pass on this one. I can't even stomach being around anymore food right now so I'm just going to hang with the guys for a while. I've barely spent any time with them since we got here. You guys have fun."

I don't go out with the guys though. I'm not exactly the most social human being and being around so many people constantly is really started to get the best of me, so I head up to my room for some much needed alone time instead.

Throwing my entire weight on the mattress, I let out a sigh. I have to make a decision, I know that. Either I come out to my family or the PDA with Brittany needs to stop. Whatever I choose isn't really the problem, it's just the choosing that's proving to be difficult.

…

Walking down the near empty streets of Lima later that night, I reach out to take Brittany's mitten clad hand into my own. The darkness offers a blanket of blindness and the cold an excuse to be as close to her as possible. Through the silence, I stop worrying for a moment and pretend that there is nothing left to hide. That this is simply a nice walk with my girlfriend who I love.

I fucking love saying that. Or, in this case, thinking it I suppose.

After a few minutes, I feel her body begin to subtly shake next to me and I turn to look at her. Her teeth are also chattering and her nose is now a bright shade of pink. I bring my hand up to touch it.

"I could have driven us, you know," I tell her, presses myself even closer to give her as much body heat as possible.

"I-I can't drive and I wanted it to be a s-surprise," she explains. I should teach her how to drive sometime. Maybe if we come back to Lima this summer. "We're almost there anyways."

Accepting her answer, I just look around to see if I can figure out where she's taking me. We've been walking down the same road for almost ten minutes and I haven't seen a single sign of civilization. I don't even think I've been to this part of town since I was little and would go visit my abuelo at the cemetery with abuela.

Then it hits me.

"Britt," I say as the gate to the cemetery becomes visible. She wants me to meet her sister.

Stopping in her tracks, she takes both my hands into her own. "I hope this is okay," she stammers, looking into my eyes for approval.

I can't even think of what to say to her. I don't think there is anything I could possibly say that would express just how much I appreciate what she's doing right now, how much it means to me that she would share with me something so dear to her. On the verge of tears, all I'm able to do to show my gratitude is pull her into a hug.

"I don't have a family like yours," she whispers into my ear. "It's messed up and broken and I'm pretty sure the majority of them hate my guts," she pulls back to look me in the eyes, "but she is the first person I would have told about you so I thought you might want to come here with me. I know it sounds a bit stu-" I send her a glare, "strange," she saves, "but I don't know, I just wanted to introduce you to at least one member of my real family."

My heart swells at her admission and before I can stop myself, I pull her in for a kiss. Trying to convey every last emotion I'm experiencing, trying to show my thanks to her for deeming me worth of meeting her sister.

"I'd love to meet her," I beam as I pull back from the kiss.

With a smile and nod, she links our hands together once again and we make our way into the cemetery.

As we pass the headstone, I read certain ones. The names, the dates. I can't help but wonder how they died, was it sickness like Brittany's sister? Or maybe it was an accident? Did they leave behind a mourning family or were they alone in the world? How much did each death affect the ones around them, the ones who loved them?

"Can you stay here for one minute?" Brittany asks and I notice we've stopped in front of a small hill. I give her an assuring nod and, with a quick peck on the lips, she walks up the hill to a headstone.

I watch her use her mitten to knock the snow off the top of it before kneeling on the ground in front. Faintly, I hear a few of Brittany's words drift towards me with the wind and I suddenly feel as though I'm intruding on a very important moment so I pull my hood over my head and turn away.

While I'm waiting, I begin to wonder how things would be different if Brittany's sister had never gotten sick. I know she told me everything with her family went downhill afterwards but she was only nine at the time, would she have been aware of any problems if they were there then? Would her parents have abandoned not only her but her sister as well?

"San," she calls and I turn around to meet her gaze. "You can come up now."

Inhaling deeply, I make my way up to meet her and quickly take her hand in mine. I'm not sure which one of us needs it more right now.

"I've been telling her about you for a while now," Brittany muses, causing me to blush, "about how wonderful and amazing you are. But I never really knew for sure if she could hear me if I wasn't actually here so I thought I'd tell her again."

Taking a step forward, my eyes rake over the headstone in front of me. It's much less extravagant and more humble than those surrounding it but that isn't what matters. My eyes latch onto the small lettering carved across it and my breath hitches.

_Milly Elise Pierce_

_1997-2003_

_Loving sister and daughter_

Mimicking Brittany's previous position, I kneel to the ground and immediately feel the wetness from the snow sink through the knees of my jeans.

"Hello, Milly," I greet softly, not exactly sure what to say. I can feel Brittany's eyes on me and it makes me nervous to know she can hear me. "I'm Santana, your sister girlfriend."

I wish I could see a picture of her. Maybe Brittany has one that she could show me. It might be slightly easier to do this if I could picture the little girl in my mind, have someone to direct my words at.

I wonder if she looked like her big sister. Maybe she had long, blonde hair that she liked to tie back into two pigtails. I bet she was tall, like Brittany, but she still had that small bit of baby fat left on her cheeks. I wonder if she had dimples.

"Apparently your sister's been telling you quite a bit about me," I chuckle nervously, "but I wish she didn't have to tell you. I wish we could have met because if you are anything like her, I'm sure we'd get along just fine. I'm not always a nice person but there's just something about Brittany that makes me want to be nice. I bet you'd hold that same power over me."

If Rachel is anything to go by, Milly would definitely have me wrapped around her finger because of how much her sister loves her. If Brittany loves someone, it's extremely difficult for me to hate them. Even if one of those people is Rachel.

"I don't know if you guys get Christmas presents up there, I'm sure you do because it's heaven, but this year I got the best present ever. You're sister, she bought me this old piano and, even though I've only seen it once, I know it's going to be one of my favourite things," I smile, throwing a look over my shoulder at Brittany. She returns it. "But that wasn't the best gift, though your sister did give me this one as well. Last night she told me she loved me back. Never has someone besides my family said those words to me and actually meant them, nobody until Brittany. I love her so much, Milly, so much it almost hurts but I would never have it any other way."

The feeling of two hands on my shoulders causes me to jump slightly, eliciting a giggle from Brittany. She bends down next to me and leans her head on my shoulder. God, this girl is perfect.

"I'm really glad I got to meet you," I say softly, not to anyone in particular.

Brittany and I stay in our position until the cold becomes too much and our bodies begin to tremble. With a few goodbyes and the promise of visiting again soon, we head back to my parents house. As we walk away, I realize that, for the first time, I actually understand why people come here. Before, I always thought the entire idea to be completely idiotic, why would anyone want to talk to thin air? But seeing the look on Brittany's face as she watched me meet her sister for the first time, actually feeling like I was having a conversation with Milly even though I was basically talking to a piece of granite, made me realize that it's almost therapeutic in a way.

In there, the impossible becomes possible as the line between the living and the dead seems to become blurred, and not in the creepy _Sixth Sense _kind of way. It's almost comforting to have some place to go and just be with the people you've lost, even if it's not physically.

"I'm really glad you wanted us to meet," I admit. "She must have been an amazing little girl."

"The best," Brittany agrees as we walk up the front steps to the house.

Every time I see this doorstep now, a feeling of complete dread takes over me and I can barely force myself inside. I'd much rather stay out here in the freezing cold with Brittany forever, where we don't have hide or pretend. It's getting fucking exhausting.

"You kind of remind me of her, you know," Brittany says, effectively getting my full attention. "Before you came around, I always had to think of Milly whenever someone doubted me or put me down. She was the one person who looked up to me, who actually believed in me, and thinking of her always made me feel better. Now, I don't have to think about her so much because you're always here to tell me I'm not completely worthless."

"You're not," I assure her.

"I know that," she smiles, "because of you guys."

"Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?" Brittany asks nervously. "I know it's risky but I checked all the windows when we got here and it looks like everyone else has called it an early night. I just really want to kiss you on the front step of your parents house, like in all those cheesy rom-coms that you pretend to hate bu-"

I kiss her with everything I have and effectively stop her rant. It's nerve wracking, knowing that my entire family are only a few meters away, but I think that's what makes it so thrilling. With every single kiss, I care less about someone walking in on us. Maybe if they could just see us like this, they would understand. There is no way something that feels this good could be wrong.

Wait, I take that back. I don't want Louis perving on us.

"So good," she whimpers as she pulls back. "We should get inside though. Before our finger freeze off and we never get to get our sweet lady loving on."

She opens the door to let herself in but I'm frozen in place, and not from the cold temperature.

Brittany wants to have sex with me.

…

For what seems like the first time since arriving in town, I'm not within 10 feet of Brittany and it's actually making me quite anxious. Her and Rachel made plans with a few of their friends from high school and, while she asked me to join them, I really wasn't in the mood to hang out with a bunch of people I'd have to pretend to like.

There are also a million and one questions that would be asked, none of which I'm in the mood to answer, so going grocery shopping with my mom was just the all around safer route. It's also apparent that this time apart is necessary because I've started to grow much too attached to her. I need to wean myself off before we get back and work and school take over again.

"Are you sure you won't be able to stay for New Years?" my mother asks for what feels like the hundredth time. It's at least the third time she's asked since we left the house twenty minutes ago.

"Yes, mami," I sigh, "we already have our tickets booked. New York is like the place to be on New Years, the ball dropping and all that crap."

"I know, I'm just going to miss you," she says sadly, pulling a few ingredients off of the shelf and placing them in the cart. No wonder we ran out of food, I feel like we haven't stopped eating since I got here. "This is the first year you won't be here for our party. It's not going to be the same."

"I'm growing up," I tell her simply.

She gives me a sad smile before turning her attention back to the list in her hand. This has been hard for her, I know it has. I remember when my brother first left for school, how she moped around the house for the first few weeks like someone had stolen her pet dog or something. At least I was there then, we would go out shopping or out to dinner, I could distract her from missing my brother. During those few years, her and I grew very close. Not that we were never close before because I've always been closer to her than Antonio, it's just that our bond was tightened during that time. My dad hasn't told me much but I can assume she hasn't been doing too hot now that all of her kids are gone.

Growing up, there was never a quiet moment in that house. Whether it was family gatherings or me and Antionio having friends over, there was rarely a day when only the four of us were within those walls. Mami loved it too. She loves having people around, hosting and waiting on them. She just loves to see the people she loves happy. There was nothing I ever asked of her that she wouldn't do for me if she could.

Well, except that boob job back in junior year but that's probably for the best. Now, they the perfect size for Brittany's hands.

Finally, we manage to find everything on her list and we head the check out at the front of the store. The two guys in front of us give us a warm smile before continuing to place their items on the conveyer and get caught up in their own conversation.

Just by looking at them, anyone could easily tell they are together. Ever since I realized my feelings for Brittany, I've been paying much more attention to other gay couples I see. These two guys, for example, are doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that they're together even in a town as shitty and closed-minded as Lima. I look away from them to hide the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth but I feel so proud of them. They're happy and don't give a rats ass what anyone else thinks about them.

Seeing other gay people live completely normal lives, doing completely normal things like grocery shopping, it really puts me at ease. Much like at the Berry's, it makes me feel like my life doesn't have to end up any differently than I've always imagined it to.

Chancing a glace at my mother, I catch her looking away awkwardly. She saw them, I know she did, because she gets the same look on her face every time something makes her feel uncomfortable. Would she give me that look if I told her about my relationship with Brittany? Would she be uncomfortable being around her own daughter?

Maybe it's a good thing I haven't told her about me yet.

She gets the look on her face again as we pass the men in the parking lot and I know I have to bring it up to her. Maybe if I can get her more comfortable with the idea before I go and tell her it would end terribly.

"What's that about?" I ask as we get in the car.

She shoots me a questioning look but I scoff to let her know I'm not buying her shit. She should know better than to try and play dumb with me.

"I just don't understand it," she quips, focusing on backing out of the parking space. "How can they go around in public holding each other's hands? They can do what they want in their own home, but out here where everyone can see? I just don't understand."

"Ma," I start, not really knowing what to say. Honestly, I'm kind of shocked by what she's saying. Not to mention a little hurt. "They have the same right to walk around with the one they love as you and papi, or at least they should. They don't get to decide to be that way, they just love who they love."

She doesn't respond and we drive for a few minutes in complete silence. It pisses me off that she would so obviously ignore this topic when it's something I want to talk about. She's never this way around me but I guess the discomfort, maybe the fear of the unknown, is too much for her.

Too bad for her because this conversation is far from over.

"Did you know that Brittany's gay?" I ask, effectively grabbing her attention.

She looks like she's going to say something but she stops herself, contorting her face awkwardly before looking back at the road. "Oh, is she?" she asks, almost sounding slightly embarrassed. I nod. "Well then."

"Yeah," I agree, trying to figure out what to say next. "It got out around school years ago. People picked on her pretty bad for it, even though she was only being herself. She's strong though."

I don't want to harp on my mother for being ignorant but, at the same time, I kind of do. From strangers, I expect to get dirty looks and snaky comments and I can handle that. If it comes from my own mother though, I don't know what I'd do. In her favour, I know my abuela and considering the bringing up she had, my mother is fairly liberal. But sexuality has always been somewhat of a taboo topic in our house. I never quite understood that.

"And Rachel, the girl whose house I was invited to on Christmas, her fathers are also gay."

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair as we pull onto our street but makes no point to comment. I let out a sigh, knowing I'm not going to get much more out of her, and the second the car is in park I open the door to get out.

"Wait, mija," she calls. I turn to give her a curious look before taking my seat and closing the door behind me.

"You won't tell Brittany what I said, will you?" she asks with a hint of desperation. "I had no idea she was, well you know. If I did, I would never have said those things. I like Brittany and this doesn't make me think any less of her. I don't want her feeling uncomfortable in this house, I want her to know she's welcome here."

She bows her head in embarrassment and I can't help but pull her into a hug. I know she would never say something to purposely hurt someone, she's just been brainwashed into thinking a certain way. She's being honest though and she will probably never say something like that again.

Maybe there is hope things won't go to shit when I fess up.

…

Pulling up to Quinn's mother's house, a feeling of familiarity falls over me. How many mornings did I pull up here to give her a ride to school, how many nights did we stumble through that front door completely wasted?

God I've missed that girl.

That is why a girl's night is in order. Now that we're both in town, she decided we should have an old fashioned sleepover, watching movies and eating junk food, to take our minds off the fact that we're basically adults now who actually have responsibilities and stuff.

Plus it's an entire night Brittany and I don't have to spend trying to hide our relationship so I definitely was not going to protest.

"Do you think I should have brought something with me? Food, perhaps," a voice in the back seat questions. Oh yeah, Berry was also invited. "I'm not that well versed in sleepover protocol and I would hate to come off as rude. I'm rather grateful to Quinn that she would think to invite me."

"Relax Rach," I tell her, using the nickname to once again calm her down.

Dealing with a panicked Rachel is not something I want to do right now, it would totally kill my mood.

I pop the trunk of my mothers car before getting out to grab my bag. "Just try and act like yourself, maybe tone down the singing a little, but Quinn will love you. She never had a reason to hate you aside from Finn and now that that ship has thankfully sailed, I think you two could actually get along. At least well enough to stay out of mine and Britt's hair for a while, let us get our cuddles on."

Brittany sends me a smirk and we grab our bags and start walking to the house. We're almost to the door when I realize Rachel isn't behind us. Turning, I see her trying to pull two large bags that combined probably weigh more than her.

"What the hell do you have in there?" I ask, inspecting the bags for any signs of their content.

"She likes to take her own cot with her," Brittany informs me, shrugging like it's the most normal thing ever. "Something about posture."

"Here then," I say, handing my much smaller bag to Brittany so I can help Rachel. "Give me one."

For a second, Rachel just looks at me so I shake my extended hand to let her know to hurry up. This is a one time offer and I'm not going to stand here forever.

"Thank you," she smiles and we finally manage to make our way to the door.

As soon as the door swings open, Quinn is flying into my arms and I almost stumble back off the deck.

"Watch it tubbers," I tease, hugging her back.

"Merry Christmas," she says, smiling into my hair.

Pulling away, she looks at the two girls next to me. I know it's kind of an awkward situation, considering the last time she saw Brittany wasn't a day any of us would like to relive and she hasn't had the chance to offer any type of apology to Rachel, but she gives each of them a hug anyway.

"Glad you guys could make it," she says I can hear an unfamiliar nervousness to her tone. "Especially on such short notice and considering it's the holidays. I thought it might be nice for all of us to get together for a night, maybe get to know each other a little better."

"See Berry, Quinn likes to speak in paragraphs just like you. Nothing to worry about."

"Shut up," Quinn says, nudging my side.

…

"You sure you're okay with this?" I ask Quinn as I grab some cups from the kitchen to bring out to the other two. "I know you and Rachel don't exactly have the best track record but it was nice you thought to invite her. It means a lot, to both of them."

"Yeah, well," she starts, taking some plates, "you seem really serious about Brittany so I thought it was about time I got to know her and Rachel."

"You sure?" I ask and she just nods. Something is definitely up with her. "Spill it, what the hell is going on?"

"Wh-I, um," she stutters and I know I have her. "Puck's coming."

My eyes immediately widen at her words.

"Puck?" I question and she nods in reassurance. "Here, tonight? What the fuck, Q?"

"We've been spending a lot of time together since I've been home and I think I want to try it out again, me and him. Last time we had almost everything against us but now I feel like we have a chance."

"What, with the miles between you?"

"It could work," she protests. "Besides, he's been asking about you. Even before I got here, he was always calling me for updates and such. He loves you and he thinks you've been ignoring him."

It's not that I've been ignoring him, per say. I just knew that the first time we spoke I would spill my guts about Brittany and I'm afraid of how he will take it. I love Puck, like a sibling bond type of shit, but I've always had this hunch that maybe he felt a little more towards me. The sex wasn't just sex for him and it would break my heart to hurt him.

"When's he coming by?" I ask, letting out a sign.

"I told him to pick up the pizza's so any minute now," she smirks. "But don't worry, I haven't told him about you and Brittany. I thought that was something you'd like to tell him, considering how close you two are."

Nodding my head thankfully,I decide I need to tell her something. She is my best friend after all. "I told Brittany I love her," I admit and watch the smile grow on Quinn's face.

"Really?" she asks and I nod, smiling.

"And she said it back."

"That's amazing, S," she beams. "You really deserve to be happy."

Feeling a bit like an idiot, I say "You do too, Q. So if Puck makes you happy, I'm going to support you 100%."

We both head back out to the living room to see Brittany and Rachel wresting over the remote. I'm just about to butt in and take Brittany's side when I hear a knock on the door. Quinn and I share a look and I give her a slight nod, letting her know I'll get it.

"She's alive," he greets me before laying the pizzas down and pulling me into his arms. "What the fuck have you been up to? You trying to ignore me or something? Even Puckzilla has feelings and they have been hurt."

"Missed you too, asshole," I smile. The banter between us is so easy.

"Where's Quinn?" Puck asks, trying to move past me into the house.

"Could we maybe talk first?" I ask in a serious tone.

"Sure," he says skeptically, the seriousness making him uncomfortable.

"I-" I start but I'm cut off by Brittany's laughter drifting to the porch. As much as I love the sound, right now it's like the last thing I want to hear and Puck eyes immediately shift to mine.

"Who's that?" he asks, trying to peer down the hall.

"Brittany Pierce," I tell him. "We've been rooming together in New York. Quinn invited her and Rachel Berry to join us tonight, female bonding and all that shit."

"Why do you look so weird right now? Are you constipated, because nana says th-"

"Fuck no, Puck," I cut him off. "I have something to tell you and you have to promise to say any crude or disgusting comments that come to mind to me in this room and never to Brittany's face. Are we clear?"

I try to make myself look intimidating, filling out my shoulders and stepping closer to him, but he knows all my tricks so there's no use.

"Brittany and I are together," I state proudly. He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes just narrow in on my face as though he's trying to process what he just heard. "As in girlfriends."

Running his hand through his Mohawk, his face lights up. "Fuckin' A, Lopez," he says and in Puck terms I know that's a sign of approval. I let out a breath I was holding. "That girl is fine. I know we all kind of picked on her and shit but there was no denying that ass."

_Slap._

"Fuck was that for?" he asks, rubbing his check.

"For being a dickhead," I tell him. "Now are you going to behave or am I going to have to kick your ass to the curb? I know you would hate to miss out on some bonding time with Q."

"I'll be good, I'll be good. Just don't slap me again."

"Good," I smirk and begin making my way back into the living room.

"Wait, Lopez," he calls and I turn to face him. "So you and Brittany, you serious?"

A smile instantly forms on my face and I nod. "I love her." He is going to have so much material against me after tonight.

"Do you think maybe," he starts, sounding kind of serious, "you think she'd be up for me joining in on that?"

"Asshole."

"I'm kidding," he laughs and I know he is. That's just how Puck functions, if there isn't something inappropriate coming out of his mouth you know you should worry. "But I'm happy for you and shit."

"Thanks," I tell him and we make out way into the room where the others are.

…

Any tension that was in the room before Puck arrived has seemingly vanished and everyone seems to be having a good time. Especially Quinn who hasn't left Puck's side since the second he walked into the room.

"What aren't you eating, Rachel?" Quinn asks, noticing the small girl hasn't taken a plate.

"It's fine. It's just that I'm vegan so I can eat anything on that," she explains.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's perfectly fine, Quinn. You had no way of knowing and I didn't think to inform you beforehand," Rachel says, trying to make sure Quinn knows for certain that it's okay.

I know Quinn, I have for years, so I can practically see how bad she feels about this. Growing up a Fabray, you are taught to be the perfect hostess and not ordering anything your guest can eat is a big faux pas. She's probably beating herself up over this.

"It's cool, Q," I tell her, laying my pizza down on the table. "I'll help Rachel whip something up in the kitchen. C'mon hobbit." I stand, motioning for her to follow.

"It's fine, really," she tries so convince me but I just grab her hand and drag her with me.

"So, what would you like?" I ask her, motioning around the quite extravagant kitchen. "Knowing Judy she probably stocked up on as much crap as she could fit in this place when she heard Quinn was coming home. There has to be something around here you can eat."

"Just some fruit would suffice," she tells me and I'm a but thrown off by the short sentence. I wait a few seconds to see if she's going to say anything else but nothing comes.

"What's with the silence?" I ask, looking through the fridge to find some strawberries. "I've never seen you this quiet, you sure you're feeling okay? Maybe you have a temperature."

I move my hand to touch her forehead but she steps away with a small laugh. That's more like Rachel.

"It's just this night seems very surreal to me," she admits. "You, Puck, and Quinn were the most popular kids at McKinley and I find it quite odd and intimidating that you would choose to spend time with me. I can't shake the feeling that this is all some set up for an elaborate prank at my expense."

Crap, Berry. I thought we had moved passed this. "You think that?" I ask in a quiet tone, earning me a nod. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Rachel. Really, I am. I thought over these past few weeks we've made some progress, that you were finally seeing the other side of me. I'm sorry for bringing you here, I never wanted to make you uncomfortable. It's just that you're Brittany's friend, mine too, and Quinn wanted to get to know you guys a little better because you're literally all I ever talk about."

"I highly doubt you talk about me," she says, "Brittany maybe."

"Of course I tell her about you," I smile, laying the berries down on the counter. "You're my friend, Rachel. Why else would I hang out with you or ask for your advise? I trust you and I kind of thought you felt the same way about me."

I almost sound pathetic, telling her these things, and it's as though that's what makes it finally click in her head that I'm not screwing with her. "Thank you," she offers. "I'm sorry about this, I just have a hard time trusting people, I guess. You've been admirable these past few months and I appreciate everything you've done for Brittany. I would be honoured to call you a friend."

"It's cool," I tell her, knowing full well that I'm part of the reason for those trust issues. "Now lets get you something to eat so I can get back to my pizza before Puck eats it all."

...

Puck stays for the first movie, curled up with Quinn on the couch, and I would be completely disgusted by them if Brittany and I weren't in a similar position on the loveseat. Rachel, on the other hand, hasn't seemed to notice the levels of PDA happening around her as she is lying on her cot, completely lost in the movie.

A rattle at the front door jars me from my comfortable position in Brittany's arms but Quinn quickly informs us that it's just her mother so I settle down again. I'm too comfortable to even get off the seat so I don't, if Judy walks in she will just assume Brittany and I are friends. Why would she think any differently?

"Hello girls," Judy says as she enters the room.

Since Russel left, Judy hasn't exactly had the best time but according to Quinn she's been doing a lot better lately. She's been going to meetings to deal with her drinking and apparently she hasn't had a single glass since May. It shows too, she looks much healthier and happier than she has over these past few years.

"Hey Judy," I greet with a smile.

"It's good to see you Santana, how have you been?"

Quinn pauses the movie and we have a short conversation with her mother, catching up and introducing Brittany and Rachel to her. After a few minutes, she heads up to her room and tells us to make sure Puck is gone after the movie is over.

The movie starts up again but I can't focus on it anymore because Brittany grip around me has tightened. Looking over my shoulder to see what she's thinking, I'm met with a beaming smile. "You didn't pull away," she whispers.

I giver her a quick peck on the lips before turning my attention back to the movie. I'm not sure during which part I fell asleep, all I know is that the next time I open my eyes it's morning and I can still feel Brittany cuddled tightly into me.

…

The last night at my parents is the most laid back night since we've arrived. My brother and Tracey left that morning and the continuous flow of family and friends that the holiday brought has been dwindling over the past few days and has now seemed to stop completely.

My mom asks both me and Brittany down to watch a movie and Brittany insists we join them, telling me how much my parents are going to miss me once we leave. I reluctantly agree because I know how hard it will be to keep my hands off Brittany but it's a pretty awkward couple hours and as soon as it's over we practically run up to my room with the promise to eat breakfast with my parents before our flight.

As soon as the door is shut behind me I attach my lips to Brittany's. Her subtle touches to my arm and thigh under the cover of our shared blanket during the movie still has my entire body buzzing, I could barely fight the urge to jump her downstairs.

She pushes my back into the door and kisses down my neck, sucking gently on my pulse point. I lose all control over my body when she slides her knee in between my legs and pushes upwards.

"Fuck," I whimper, earning me a smirk from the girl.

Refusing to let her top, I swiftly push her off of me and onto the bed, straddling her waist in the process. I dive in again, taking her bottom lip in my teeth and running my hands up her torso. My left hand stops at her breast, massaging it gently through her shirt, but my other one continues up and cups her cheek.

I sift so I can slide my leg between hers, causing her to moan rather loudly. I kiss her hard to cover it up. My parents are just downstairs and I know I need to stop this now before we can't. This just feels too much like high school.

Her hand grazes the top of my jeans and I know what's coming next. Just as she goes to undo my button I push myself off of her which may have been the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. "San," she whimpers, reaching out for me again.

"We need to stop," I say panting.

My focus is completely on getting my breathing back to normal rate so when he arms reach around me, pulling my body flush against hers again, it take me by surprise. She kisses me deeply and I almost cave, those lips are very hard to refuse, but I mange to pull myself away from her sweet taste.

"We can't do it like this," I manage to get out, "it feels like we're teenagers, sneaking behind my parents back. Not romantic at all. It's like the opposite of how I want this to be."

Reluctantly, she nods and removes her hands from my jeans. My head stops spinning long enough for me to realize that I'm still straddling her so I swing my leg over her body and sit on the edge of the bed, my breathing still heavy. "I promise you the second we get back to the apartment you can do whatever you want with me, only a few more hours."

"Why would you tell me that?" she whines playfully. She sits up, moving to sit next to me. Apparently she missed the part where I was trying to distance myself from her so I didn't do anything prematurely. Or she just chose to ignore it, deciding instead to test me even more in the art of self-control. "Now how am I supposed to sleep next to you? It's been hard enough already."

"Believe me, I know," I tell her.

The past few nights have been some of the greatest yet worst sleeps of my life. Great because I get to curl into her and listen to her breathing until it eventually evens out and I know she's asleep. Waking up in her arms is everything I never thought I wanted but the single greatest feeling in the world. Worst because my mind can't seem to settle down when she is invading all of my senses. Nothing but her manages to cross my mind during those hours.

"I can sleep in Antonio's room if you want?" I suggest, only partially hoping she takes me up on the offer.

"No," she replies almost instantly, "I need you here. I was just saying don't be surprised if you wake up to wandering hands."

Her hand grazes over my thigh, causing a shiver to run through my body. "Jesus, Britt," I mumble, feeling weakness in my knees.

Knowing there is no way I will be able to resist her if she keeps that up, I grab some pajamas from my half packed suitcase and quickly head down the hall to change in the bathroom. If there is one thing Brittany is good at it's getting me all hot and bothered when I can do nothing about it.

As I pull my sleep shirt over my body, the realization hits me. I told Brittany we could do whatever she wants when we get back to New York meaning we are going to have sex. The idea automatically makes me freeze. Sex is something I've only done a few times in my life, contrary to the idea people had of me in high school, I just never saw the appeal in it. Now I think I understand why.

At least with guys sex was easy, I could just lie there and they would do all the work. This is new territory, quite literally, and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

I shake my head to rid it of my thoughts. It's supposed to be exciting, thinking about your first time with someone you love, another new thing for me, and I can't let my fear ruin that. Besides, I'm sure Brittany will help me out as long as I don't chicken out first.

* * *

**A/N:**So she didn't tell her parents but there is the promise of sexy times! I feel like that's a fair trade off. Both will be addressed in the next chapter though, promise.

I feel like need to make it clear that I'm not going to make Faberry happen, just so I don't get any of your hopes up. Depending on the day, I sometimes ship Faberry more than Brittana but for the sake of this story I just want them to be friends. There won't be much focus on any relationship other than Brittana in this and I know if I made Faberry happen I would want to write more of them and then the whole idea of Quinn having to come out, etc. It's just takes too much focus off Brittana which is why you are all here in the first place. The idea of having both Quinn and Santana mend their relationship with Rachel is what appeals to me. Even the Quick in this will stay at a minimum.

Also, a guest reviewer asked if I could write a chapter in Brittany's POV. I don't know about you guys but I feel like this is kind of a journey we're taking with Santana and for us to know anything more than she does, it just seems like a betrayal of sorts. I might consider it if it's something you guys really want to read but I honestly don't know how well I could write inside her head, I think it takes a special kind of writer to be able to access that.

So yeah, long authors note, aha. Let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: **A considerably shorter chapter when compared with the last few so I apologize but there's some smut in here, well an attempt at smut. I've never tried my hand at writing any type of scene like this before and I feel a bit like a fish out of water. But you guys deserve something for all of your awesome reviews and alerts, and subsequently making me smile impossibly wide, so I tried my best for you. Hopefully it's up to par.

* * *

A late brunch with the parents, an uneventful flight, and a taxi ride are the events that lead Brittany and I back to our apartment. We haven't spoken of last night yet but all throughout the day she has been sending me these looks that let me know she hasn't forgotten.

Hell, I know I fucking haven't.

Once we finally got back to our apartment, after getting caught in the holiday rush at the airport, we both silently separated to our respective rooms to empty our suitcases. I did try to unpack properly at first but my nerves soon got the best of me and focusing on one simple task was proving to be too difficult. I ended up just dumping all of my clothes, even the clean items, into the laundry bag, and spooked out to the living room to wait for Brittany to finish.

The butterflies in my stomach have multiplied tenfold since last night but now most of the fear is gone. I'm actually excited. I can't wait for her to come out of that door so I can walk up and kiss her, so I can take her to my room and do what I've been dying to do for a solid 12 hours.

Then there is the part of me that wants to start running away now so I have a head start on her.

Okay, so maybe not all of the fear has vanished.

Of the times I've had sex, none of them have ever been planned. Random hookups at parties to keep up with expectations, late nights at some footballer's house. None of them ever had me as nervous as this, not even that first time in the back of the Puck's truck freshman year. Maybe that's the different between casual sex and this. This, with someone you actually care about, makes you feel things.

I'm so caught up in my own thoughts that I don't even hear Brittany come out of her bedroom and she's sitting next to me before I know it.

"Hey," she greets, looking at me questioningly.

In lieu of a verbal response, I lean over to her side of the couch and press my lips gently against hers. I can tell she's shocked by the sudden action but she recovers well and is soon kissing me back. With the feeling of her tender lips on mine, I can't remember what I was worried about in the first place.

Much to my surprise, my boldness doesn't falter and I move to deepen the kiss. My hands seek out her body and find purchase on her waist, rubbing small circles over the clothed area.

Brittany seems to be enjoying it as a moan escapes her lips and she slides her body down the couch, allowing me to lie on top of her. Feeling our bodies touching like this sends a shot of heat to my core and I can't help imagine what it will feel like once we eliminate the clothes.

"You really do like to be on top, don't you?" she laughs, pulling back from me.

I only hum in response before kissing her again. She isn't mad about me being in power though, she's the one who let me have it after all. I think she realizes that the more in control I feel in this situation, the calmer I will be.

Her lips are doing a damn fine job of keeping me calm on their own.

After a few minutes Brittany's hips start to grind up, meeting mine and eliciting a loud groan from both of us. Never in my life have I been so turned on, and this time it's only from kissing. We need to get to the bedroom now.

Pulling back, I look into her eyes and see nothing but love and want. We have a silent conversation and soon I'm taking her by the hand, guiding her into my room. She kicks the door shut behind her, even though it's completely unnecessary, but I'm thankful for that small consideration. This moment is for us only.

The dim lit room offers very little aid but we manage to find our way to the bed fairly quickly. Instead of us immediately trying to dominate, we lie side by side on top of the cool bedspread. Things slow down at that point and, for a while, we remain in that position, just looking at each other. I take in everything about her, her lips, her eyes, the pattern of her breathing. This is the complete opposite of what I've experienced in the past but it's a welcome change.

"Britt," I whimper as she traces lines up and down my arms with her fingertips, causing a shiver to run through my body.

Eventually, the longing stares are no longer enough and we're soon making out again, mirroring our earlier position in the living room. I've always liked kissing, at least much more than sex, but kissing Brittany is even better. Everything just seems so much more heightened, even sense more alert. I could kiss her for hours straight and never tire of it. We could do only this and I would be completely satisfied.

The wetness between my legs, however, tells a different story and we both soon need even more. I run my hand across her stomach, just under the thin material of her tank top and feel her shiver. I'm not even embarrassed by how turned on I am at this point because, with someone as beautiful as Brittany kissing me, I wouldn't have it any other way.

My hand that's underneath her shirt slides upwards, taking the material with it. She lifts her arms up so I can pull it off completely, moving to now straddle her hips. I dive in to pepper kisses kissing all down her front, along her abs, and then back up to the swell of her breasts.

I look up at her and she nods, giving me permission to remove her bra and my hands quickly fly behind her. It proves to be a lot more difficult to unclasp another girl's bra than your own but she's patient with me and when I finally get it undone and the material falls off her chest, I know it was worth any embarrassment I felt. My hands automatically latch onto them, kneading them much like they did back at my parents' house but so much better. Without the restraint of her bra I can lean down and suck a nipple into my mouth.

I do.

Her chest immediately pushes upwards to meet me and I smile.

Maybe I can do this.

My eyes look up to search hers out and I find them looking directly into my own. Her bottom lip is pulled into her mouth, her top teeth biting on it, and flick my tongue over the hardened bud a few times to watch her reaction.

_Fuck._

When I try to move to her other breast, she pulls me up to stop me. Placing a hand at the hem of my shirt, eyes filled with desire, she begins pulling it up. When she finally gets it off she doesn't do anything, just stares. I've changed in front of rooms full of girls hundreds of times and never cared. Right now though, I can't help but feel vulnerable.

"You're beautiful," she breathes, the unusual rasp in her voice causing me to shiver.

My bra is next to go and I lie down on top of her so I don't feel as exposed. "God," I let out when out naked chests meet. So much fucking better than with clothes.

My momentary lapse in awareness allows her to flip us over, taking me by surprise. With a wicked grin on her face, she lowers her head so it's level with my breast. After a few light kisses to the skin around it, she presses a light kiss to my hardened nipple. I'm pretty sure it's the best thing I've ever felt.

"Pants," I say breathlessly, reaching my hands down in between us to play with the hem of her sweat pants. She lifts herself off of me, causing a shiver to run through my body as my now wet nipple is exposed to the cool air, but I quickly recover and slide both her pants and underwear down her legs as far as I can before she kicks them the rest of the way off.

I've seen Brittany naked twice before but neither time has it been like this, where I can actually look at her. She is stunning, absolutely stunning. She doesn't seem to mind my eyes raking down over her body so I take my time, admiring her from the awkward angle. Her gentle curves, her toned abs, her perfect breasts. The creamy white skin that I want nothing more than to run my tongue over. Every single inch of her body is so appealing to me that I have no idea where I even want to begin.

Then I spot the wetness between her thighs and my hand instinctively reaches forward, running my fingers though the newly discovered territory.

I vaguely register a gasp leaving her lips but I feel like I am in a trance of sorts. The sheer amount of wetness that is covering my fingers makes me groan and I bring my fingers up to my face to examine it. I did this to her?

"Taste it," Brittany tells me and my gaze snaps onto her, seeing her smiling wickedly. Do people do that? It doesn't sound like the sexiest thing in the world but I am kind of interested and Brittany told me to so…

"Mmhh." I taste the liquid and it's nothing like I expected. Maybe I figured it would taste sour, or gross, but I doesn't. It just tastes like Brittany.

As soon as I remove my fingers, Brittany reattaches her lips to mine, undoubtedly tasting herself off of them.

"Your pants need to be gone like ten minutes ago," she husks and I quickly oblige, feeling a new wave of arousal pass over me.

With her help, I'm lying naked under her within seconds. Even though I can tell she wants to, she doesn't stare at me like earlier and instead puts her arms around me and kisses me hard. Every place her body touches mine causes my skin to tingle, which feels like everywhere. Every part of us is naked and touching and I know there is no going back now. This is it.

Starting at my neck, she begins to kiss her way down my body. Sometimes gentle brushes, other time light nips with her teeth. My entire body buzzes, my breathing irregular, and I'm completely entranced by watching her move. That, however, doesn't stop my body from jerking and arching up to meet her lips when she finds an overly sensitive spot.

When Brittany's lips finally meet my hip bone, I feel my body tense up and my eyes press closed out of frustration. _Fuck_. I was doing so well. It's not that I don't want this, there is nothing I want more in this moment. It's what this means. Sleeping with Brittany makes everything so much more actual. Emotionally and physically, she will have everything I own.

Noticing my uneasiness, she brings her head back up to my own. With a chaste kiss to my lips, she pulls back to look me in the eyes. "It's okay," she whispers. "It's just me, it's just us."

She runs her hand through my hair, calming me, and I think in that moment I fall in love with her all over again. With the feeling of tears threatening to fall, I pull Brittany in for a deep kiss before giving her a quick nod.

Why the hell wouldn't I want to give Brittany everything I have?

Retaking her position between my legs, she looks up and gives me a wink before kissing the skin on the inside of my thigh. She reaches for my hand, taking it in her own and intertwining our fingers before bringing her other hand to run through my soaked folds.

"Britt," I practically whimper, my breath hitching in my throat.

I try my hardest to take note of the things she's doing to me to ensure I'll be able to repay the favour but the second her lips latch around my clit, I lose all sense of coherent thought.

I've never had anyone go down on me before but at the contact, I start feeling things at a whole other level, one I didn't even know existed. Her movements are slow and soft, not enough but almost too much at the same time. I squeeze her hand tighter in mine and let out a shaky breath I've been holding. When I feel the lightest touch of her teeth, my hips cant upwards and I can feel myself begin to lose it.

Moaning loudly, I move my free hand to her head so she knows if she doesn't stop what she's doing, this is all going to be over much too soon.

Taking the hint, she pulls herself back and kisses me deeply. The taste of myself on her lips doesn't exactly help and a grunt escapes my lips. This girl is going to be the death of me.

Moving her way down my body once again, she traces a line straight from my neck down my stomach. Following it with my eyes, I watch as it circles my clit a few times before finally entering me. "Jesus, Britt," I curse, throwing my head back against the pillow behind me. Canting my hips to meet them with every thrust, I beg her to go faster.

And that she does.

Then she adds another finger and I just about lose it. The feeling of her inside of me, mixed with the sight of her between my legs, with the added bonus that I'm absolutely, 100 percent in love with her. There are just no words to describe how incredible this whole things feels.

Alternating between fingers and her tongue, rapid and moderate pace, she makes me feel things I never thought possible. It's not about sex, not about reaching that elusive orgasm. Not really. Because when she looks up at me, catching a glimpse of my sweaty, disheveled appearance, I feel something more than any orgasm could bring me. This isn't sex, this is something much more intimate between two people who actually love and care about each other.

Soon I'm at the brink of my orgasm, panting and moaning Brittany's name. Blissfully caught up in her every movement, every ministration, I beg for release.

The whine of disappointment that leaves my lips as she removes her lips from my clit is quickly replace by a moan as I feel her lips on mine. Tasting myself on her lips again almost sends me over the edge but I hold on a little longer, not wanting this to end. Feeling one of her hands pumping rapidly, its thumb now replacing her lips on my clit. The other still gripping my own.

"Look at me when you come," Brittany whispers and I think it's the sexiest thing I've ever heard. Nodding my head frantically, I force my eyes open and prepare for what's next.

A few seconds more and I'm falling. Hard and fast, finally over the edge she was working me towards. With the sound of her name on my lips, her face the only thing I see.

Then darkness.

Out of pure exhaustion and complete bliss, my eyes close and I fall further back onto the bed. I faintly feel her pull her fingers out of me but I can't seem to muster the energy to open my eyes. She's everywhere, in every fiber of my being, every single sense.

I'm not sure how long it takes but when I'm finally able to open my eyes again, I see Brittany looking down at me. It's only then I notice the faint line of sweat forming on her forehead and the large grin plaster across her face. "That good, huh?" she asks cockily. "Made you pass out."

"Shut up," I mumble, feeling a blush shade my face. She's only teasing but it's still kind of embarrassing to be so completely out of control like that. That was a fucking amazing orgasm though.

"How was it?" she asks, lowering herself onto the pillow next to mine. She brings her hand to push a few strands of sweaty hair out of my face.

"Do you even have to ask that question?" I ask with a laugh. "Fucking awesome. Now give me a few more minutes and I will rock your world."

"Really now?" she smirks, wrapping her arm around me. Our bodies press impossibly closer.

Giving her a quick peck on the lips, I return the smirk. "You know it," I say cockily. I don't know if it's the orgasmic haze or what but I feel like I could do just about anything right now.

"You look beautiful like this," Brittany admits and my head involuntarily ducks. "You're absolutely stunning and I love every single part of you."

It must be impossible to love someone more than I love her in that moment. The look on her face, the complete tone of sincerity in her voice. If I loved her any more than I do right now, I think I'd combust or something.

"I really, really love you too," I tell her, pulling back from her embrace. "Every single inch of you, inside and out."

Rolling her onto her back, I begin pressing light kisses over her neck. "You're an amazing person, Brittany," I tell her between kisses, now moving down to pay some attention to her chest. Kissing all around her breast, making sure not to miss a single place. "I find it hard to believe that I'm the one you chose, the one you want to be with."

She shivers as I lean up to press a kiss to each of her cheeks before moving further down her body. This is going to be the best night of my life.

…

My head rests on Brittany's chest, listening to her breathing until it slows down and I know for certain she's asleep. I should be sleeping as well after a day like this but I'm so hyperaware of her touch that I can't bring myself to doze off.

As much as I don't want to leave her side, the urge to do something takes over. Gently, I pull my weight off of her, making sure not to wake her in the process. Grabbing a small blanket from the bottom of my bed I wrap it around myself, looking back at her sleeping form one last time before slipping out of my room.

My phone still rests on the coffee table in the living room and I make my way over to it. The room is dark so I assume it's late but I actually have no idea what time it is. My screen illuminates the room, nearly blinding me in the process, and I see it's almost 11 PM.

I want to call my mom.

Scratch that, I need to call her. All this lying and sneaking around, hiding Brittany from them, hiding my true self, it's too much. It's exhausting and it's beginning to take its toll on me. There is no doubt in my mind anymore, I know this is the real thing. I know I love her, I know that this isn't just some phase or fling. It doesn't feel right to lie to my mom anymore, it's time for me to be completely honest and deal with whatever backlash may occur.

Taking a deep breath, I click the home button on my phone, brightening the screen that has dimmed. As I scroll through my contacts I can see my hands shaking slightly but I don't allow that to stop me. Maybe I'm still on a Brittany induced high, but whatever it is it's making me feel completely ready to have this conversation.

I find her name and hit dial.

Even as I listen to the rings I manage to keep myself relatively calm. The past few months have been full of nerve wracking experiences and realizations, maybe I'm finally getting used to it.

"_Hello_."

Never mind, definitely not used to it.

"H-hey mami," I stutter and she immediately goes into a full fledged panic attack, more than likely because she thinks something must be wrong considering we spoke only a few hours ago when I landed.

"Everything is perfect," I tell her, honestly, and I can hear a relieved sigh from her end. "I do actually have something I'd like to talk with you about though, if it's not too late. I really wanted to do it while we were in town but everything was just so hectic."

"_You're starting to scare me again, mija. What is it?_" she asks concerned.

There's no easy way to say this. I can't be there to comfort her or to see her reaction. She is in Lima and I'm in New York. All those miles between us have never seemed quite so large. I consider asking if papi is around so he can comfort her but I think I need to tell her first, just the two of us.

"Ma, I'm gay," I tell her, trying my best to hold back the tears. It's the first time I've ever said those words out loud, even if they have been running through my mind for a while now.

For a few seconds we're both silent. I hear no sound from her end except her breathing and I can't think of what to say to comfort her. Someone should really write a how-to book on this shit.

Though it's less than a minute, every single possible scenario, it seems, runs through my head during that time. She could just hang up on me now and never call back. Maybe she's just thinking of the right words to yell at me, to tell me how disappointed she is. She could be running around frantic, trying to find my father and tell him what a disgrace I've become. Maybe she's going to scold me for lying, for keeping her in the dark for so long. Maybe she is too disgusted at the thought to even speak at the moment.

"_It's Brittany, isn't it?_" she finally says, the lack of criticism or anger in her tone taking me by surprise.

I nod my head before realizing she can't see me. "Yes ma, Brittany and I are a couple,"I tell her, forcing my voice to remain strong. "That's why I couldn't go back to Ohio without her, why I wanted to tell you while we were there so I could introduce her as my girlfriend, but I'm a coward. I chickened out."

"_You, Santana, are not a coward,_" she states firmly, "_and I don't ever want to hear those words leave your lips again. What you just did is probably one of the hardest, bravest things you've ever done and no one can tell you differently._"

I hear her sniffle through the phone and I wipe a stray tear that's rolling down my cheek. It's not a sad tear though, more like a relieved one. Carrying something as big as my same-sex relationship with my roommate tends to grow a little heavy after a while.

"_Baby, I am so sorry if I ever made you feel like you couldn't be honest with me_," she tells me. Much like that day in the car, she sounds vulnerable and desperate, desperate for me to believe that she's telling the truth, that she isn't ready to disown me for not living up to expectations. Hearing her like that causes a few fresh tears to form in my eyes. "_Everything I've said, every time I've spoke bad of people like that, believe me Santana, I'm sorry. I didn't know, even though that doesn't matter. You have to know I love you, you're my daughter._"

I want to tell her it does matter. It does matter that she didn't know because how could she when I never told her. I want to tell her it matters that she isn't yelling at me right now, but comforting me instead. It want to tell her how much all of this matters. But the words get stuck in my throat.

"Thank you," is all I'm able to say, but it is sincere. "So you're okay with this?"

"_Yes, I'm-I may need some time to get used to it but I love you and nothing is going to change that. You're my baby girl and I'm never going to be upset at you for who you love._"

"I really do love her," I say absent mindedly, not really meaning for her to hear.

"_I know you do,_" she says, bringing a smile to my face. "_I should have seen it sooner, the way you look at her, how you're always smiling when you're together. I don't think I've ever seen you so happy, mija. I have no idea how I missed it._"

A nervous chuckle escapes my lips as I feel my face heat up. "Tracey managed to catch us but she promised not to tell Toni. I'm actually terrified about what he'll do when he finds out," I explain, "and papi."

"_Don't you worry about them, I'll handle it," _the firmness of her voice makes me want to believe her_. "You have nothing to worry about with you're father, I can promise you that. Antonio may be a different story but I'll make sure her knows that we accept you and that if he wants to remain a part of this family he must do the same._"

Another few tears run down my face but I don't even bother wiping them away. "Thank you so much."

There is another pause but I know she hasn't hung up, she's just thinking about what to say next. "_I'm so sorry for what I said, mija. That day at the store, those men. I had no right, no idea what-_"

"It's fine, ma," I tell her truthfully, not wanting to hear the rest of it because I know if I do I'll start sobbing. If I start sobbing, Brittany will undoubtedly wake up, and I don't want that to happen.

I know my mother is sorry for what she said, I knew she was sorry the first time she apologized. I just don't want her beating herself up over everything she's said that could possibly have offended me. Knowing her, she will drive herself mad over it.

"_I love you, mi amor, now get some sleep. Don't worry about anything, just know that I love you._" her voice is so calming and reassuring that I believe every word she says. "_Everything will be just fine._"

"Love you too, mami," I say before hanging up the phone.

Throwing myself back onto the couch I let out a loud breath and bring my hands to cover my face. I did it, it's over, and it wasn't even half as bad as I expected it to be. She still loves me, accepts me, and there's nothing more I could ask for right now.

"San?" I hear along with light footsteps down the hall.

"In here," I say, my voice still raspy from crying.

Brittany pokes her head around the corner to see me balled up on the couch. "What's the matter?" she asks when she sees my tear stained face. She joins me on the couch and pulls her sheet covered arms around me. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no," I quickly assure her, placing a quick kiss on her lips, "you were perfect."

I give her a wide smile and she returns it. "I just spoke with my mom and I told her," she looks at me confused. "I told her about us."

"You told your mom we had sex?" she deadpans.

"No," I laugh, grabbing the couch pillow next to me and hitting her gently, "I told her that we're together, I told her that I'm gay and madly in love with my beautiful blonde roommate."

"Santana," she says, looking into my eyes lovingly. I don't know if she realizes what she's doing, but her arms, wrap tighter around my body. "I'm so proud of you. What did she say?"

Placing my head on her shoulder, I snuggle into her. "She's okay with it, just needs some time to get used to the idea but she told me she still loves me and that was all I really needed to hear," I whisper into her ear. As glad as I am that my mom was cool with it, I don't even think her disapproval could ruin my mood right now.

"Good because I really like your mom and I wouldn't want to yell at her for hurting you," she semi jokes but I don't doubt she would say something to anyone who was cruel about this. She did manage to scare Quinn that time she though she made me cry.

"She even guessed it was you. She told me she has never seen me as happy as I when I'm around you."

Hearing that seems to make Brittany happy and she places a sloppy kiss on my cheek, them proceeds to try and kiss every inch of my face in a similar manner which I can't help but laugh about, deeming whatever protests I have invalid.

"So," she says, snuggling into my side after we've calmed down, "you called yourself gay."

I was waiting for this.

"Yeah," I tell her freely, feeling proud for agreeing so quickly. "I've been thinking about it a lot and I can't picture myself with a man the way that I am with you. No guy I've ever been with has made me feel the way you do, made me feel as special and as wanted. All of those things you told me back when I asked how you knew you were a lesbian, I realized they all applied to me as well, I was just in denial for too long to acknowledge it," I tell her seriously. "There's also no guy as hot as you, so there's that."

She lets out a loud breath and I look up to see what she's doing. I watch as a blush crosses over her face and she brings her hand up to cover it, giggles escaping her mouth.

"What?" I question, giggling as well.

"It's just," she pulls her hands down to look at me, "I can't believe this is happening. You're Santana Lopez, Cheerio's captain, and I'm Brittany Pierce, dance nerd. We aren't suppose to be together, things like this don't happen, at least not in real life."

Leaning up to kiss her, I make sure she knows that this is real. "I should be the one surprised," I tell her when we break apart. "I never thought in a million years that you would forgive me for everything, and here we are. You're an amazing person Brittany, don't ever forget that."

Placing a light kiss on my head, she asks if I'm ready for another round. Her arm snakes its way under the small blanket covering my body, causing me to moan loudly. "Yes," I let out, sounding a little too desperate but I'm too turned on to even care.


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N:** This is a bit of a filler chapter I suppose but I wanted you guys to have a bit more of them being together because spoiler alert, shit's about to hit the fan. So enjoy this while you can!

* * *

The apartment is great. Over the time I've been living here, it has definitely grown on me to a point where I could never picture myself living anywhere else and any doubts I initially had have long since passed. Not to mention the added bonus of my gorgeous roommate. I didn't really think there was anything we could do to this place to make it better.

Then Brittany bought me a piano and now I'm convinced this apartment is the best place in the entire fucking world.

A couple of her guy friends brought the old piano up yesterday and watching them carry it up five sets of stairs was completely terrifying but definitely worth it. I've barely left it since it touched the living room floor. Without any of my old music books, I've only played pieces I remember from class but just going through the motions, hearing the sound fill our apartment, it brings a welcome calmness over the place.

"You can totally tell me if you hate this idea completely, or if it makes you too uncomfortable, or-"

Until a distress Brittany creeps up on me, scaring the crap out of me.

"Whoa, Britt," I say, slowing my fingers and turning around to see her standing there nervously. "Slow down."

"You remember Mike and Tina, from glee club?" she asks and I have to laugh at her uneasiness.

Of course I remember them, especially Mike. The entire time we attended McKinley we ran in the same social circles, not that we were overly close but I still knew him. Tina, not so much, but I do remember seeing her at the scatter party and hearing her say a few things in glee.

"Yeah," I nod. "Why?"

"Well," she starts, dragging the _l_ sound out, "Mike goes to school with me and we've been working pretty close this last semester. He was back in Lima last week and I met up with him and Tina and they were telling me how Tina was spending the last of her break in New York. I mentioned that we were coming back here too and somewhere along the line I agreed to go to their New Year's Eve party."

She's biting her lip nervously which isn't typically a good sign but I can't figure out why. Sure, I would have liked to spend the time alone with Brittany but I know we can't spend our entire lives locked up together. There is also the fact that we were planning on going out so it's not like we would be overly touchy or anything.

"That's cool, Britt," I tell her, cocking my eyebrow to see if she'll explain herself further. "Why were you nervous to ask me? We can hang out with your friends whenever you want."

"Well, the thing is, they kind of know about us."

For a second, it kind of feels like the world around me has stopped.

"What?" I say out of disbelief. I know I've been making her wait a long enough time but why would she run off and tell Mike and Tina? I didn't even know they were friends until like 2 minutes ago and she's already told them my biggest secret?

"It sort of slipped," she says apologetically, "I'm so sorry, San."

Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths to try and control myself. This is Brittany, a girl I trust with my life. I love her more than anything else in this god damn world. But she betrayed me. She knows how hard this is for me, she knew I didn't want anyone else to know. So what does she do? She goes and tells the first person she sees.

Deep breath.

But she didn't do it on purpose. She said it slipped out and I know she would never say something to purposely upset me. She also apologized. Ugh, I hate myself for freaking out about this. It's two people for Christ's sake, and Mike and Tina at that. Asian Fusion won't spill the beans to anyone if Brittany told them not to.

It's not like I haven't told any of my friends.

What would be the harm in hanging out with them for a while anyway? New Years is supposed to be about starting fresh, what better way to do that than to surround myself with people I can actually be myself around. Maybe this could work out.

I open my eyes to see Brittany studying me dutifully. She looks worried, almost as though she would break at a single touch.

"Sounds like fun," I tell her, breaking the silence.

"W-wait," her eyes bulge, "what did you just say?"

Letting out a breathy laugh at the look on he face, I repeat what I said even though I know she heard me the first time. "I can't hide away forever and I'm starting to realize I don't want to. You make me happy, so happy that it would be a shame not to share it with the world."

"So you're not mad?"

Shaking my head back and fourth, I tell her no. "I kind of wish you had spoken to me about it first because they know me but I could never be mad at you over something like that, especially since it was an accident. I figure it's about time we let everyone know anyways. My family knows so I don't really give a fuck what anyone else thinks."

"Okay then," she smiles, letting out a small breath she had held in her puffed cheeks.

"Okay then," I return the gesture. "You want to play something? I could show you some of the basics." I motion to the piano.

Shaking her head, a smirk forms on her face as she moves closer to me. Placing one leg on either side of mine, she lowers herself to sit on my knees.

"Why don't you play me something?" she suggests, whispering the words into my ear. "You look really sexy when you have that concentrated look on your face."

The shiver that runs through my body momentarily clouds my thoughts but when I regain my bearings, I run my hands up her legs. The further up they inch, the quicker I can see her melt on my lap.

"W-what do you want to hear?" I ask, placing butterfly kisses to her face.

"Anything," she breathes, "anything I can dance to."

We both start laughing at the point and I push her up onto her feet.

"Okay Ms. Pierce, this one's for you."

…

The next day when I walk into the coffee shop down the block, my eyes instantly dart in the direction of the counter even though I know Brittany isn't working. Usually I'm glad if she has the day off, it means I get to see her more, but right now I'm wishing she was. Just so I could have a two minute conversation, enough to get my Brittany fix.

But she isn't so I suppose coffee is going to have to do.

"Fancy meeting you here," a bubbly voice greets me and I know it could only be one person. Who else would be caught saying that.

"Hello, Rachel," I say, turning around to see the small girl standing behind me in line.

"How was the rest of your vacation?" she asks, rocking back and fourth on her feet as though this place doesn't allow her adequate room to move about.

Mike and Brittany decided to use the free time today to get some practice in so they're in top shape when the new semester starts and, while I insisted on making sure I'd help her workout everyday, she protested that a different type of workout was in order. Hence the reason why I feed into Berry's small talk and end out sticking around to chat for a while. Why would I want to go back to the apartment when all I do there is mope around like a lost kitten?

"Brittany told me what happened with you mom, how you told her about you two," Rachel says after we've been sitting for a while. Long enough for her to get comfortable at least because I don't think she's ever really spoken to me about something so personal. Oddly, I don't get defensive. "How do you feel?"

"It felt good, you know. Getting it off my chest and stuff," I tell her, taking a sip of the warm coffee.

"I know it meant a lot to Brittany," Rachel smiles and at the mention of my girlfriend's name, I do too. "All she ever talks about is you, about how proud she is, of how much she loves you. I'm quite glad you have taken this seriously because, to her, it's everything. As surprising as it is for me to admit, you are exactly what she needed."

Nodding my head, I can't stop myself from telling Rachel that Brittany is exactly what I need as well.

"My dad knows now too," I decide to tell her. "He called yesterday after my mom told him. He seemed pretty cool with it. Shocked, but nothing too drastic."

She gives me a proud smile but doesn't say anything.

Silence falls over us after my confession but it isn't an uncomfortable one. It's comfortable to be able to talk to Rachel, to have another friend to confide in, but it's also nice to have someone else to just be with, if you know what I mean. When I'm around her, much like when I'm around Quinn or Brittany, I don't feel as though I have to pretend to be anything I'm not. It's nice.

"Has Brittany mentioned anything about her mother to you recently?" I switch to a more serious tone to ask the question so Rachel knows I'm not playing. She wants to be friends and friends help friends out. Right now, I could really use some insight into Brittany's mind. "Every since Lima the topic's kind of been a little more touchy than before and I'm worried. Do you know if she saw her mother there or not?"

Rachel shifts nervously in her chair, shaking her head back and fourth, but I'm positive she knows more than she's letting on. Even though I'm her girlfriend, Brittany still tends to trust Rachel a little more with her secrets, which I can understand. For someone who wants to be on Broadway, Rachel really is a horrible actor.

"Spill," I tell her sternly, looking at her until she makes eye contact.

"Wha-"

"Don't play dumb with me, Berry. What do you know that you're not telling me? I know Brittany probably told you not to say anything to me, she thought it might make me upset or set me off, but she's my girlfriend and I care about her. I need to know if something happened, if something is wrong so I can try to help her."

"Well, um," she starts in a very un-Rachel Berry like fashion. "When she spoke to me about it, all she would say was that she was surprised not to see her mother around town and that she even made a point to pass her home a couple times to see if she could catch a glimpse."

To know Rachel is to know she loves to speak and I'm not even sure if it's for the sake of actually telling people things. Half the time, I'm positive she does it just for her own pleasure, so she gets to hear herself and annoy other people at the same time. So when she willingly stops speaking, with the added suspicion of focusing her full attention on drinking the rest of her tea in one giant swallow, it's a give away that something's up.

"And…"

"That's all she knows."

"But what do you know?" I eye her curiously.

"My father's have told me some things," she starts but avoids looking at me, "they've told me things in confidence that under no circumstances am I to tell anyone. I know you care about her Santana, I do too, but trust me when I tell you that it's best if she's left in the dark about this. For now especially. In due time, everything will come to face and I don't want her being mad at you if she learns you knew but kept it from her. She'll need you more than ever when that happens."

_What the actual hell is Berry talking about?_

Here I am, groveling for the smallest bit of information on this whole situation and she just throws crap like that out there. By nature, I'm a very curious person and I don't like to wait for things so I make a point to find out everything I can. But something is slightly different right now. I'm not sure what, exactly. Maybe it's because, for once, she actually seems to be lacking confidence in her words, or maybe it's the worry that's evident in her voice.

Whatever factors combined that make this different are enough to make me drop the subject, offering a small nod which earns me a relieved sigh from the girl.

Just because it's dropped from conversation doesn't mean my worrying stop though. Over the next few days, I'm constantly plagued by the conversation, my brain eagerly searching for the smallest hint I might have missed.

But I come up short.

…

Putting the final touches on my eyes liner, I look at myself in the mirror one last time before standing up from the chair. It's the last day of 2012 and I am more than ready for the new year to start. Not that this year has been bad, not by any means. I graduated third in my class, got into the university of my choosing, moved away from home, got to know the most amazing girl who also agreed to be my girlfriend. All in all, 2012 was a good year but I have a feeling that 2013 will be so much better.

"You almost ready in here?" I call to Brittany, making my way down the hallway to her room. "You told Mike we would be at his place by 9 and it's almost 8:30 now."

Surprisingly, my nerves aren't half as bad as I was expecting them to be. Brittany has assured me a thousand times that this was only going to be a small gathering but this is still the first party we'll be attending as a couple. I thought there would be at least a few nerves involved. Instead, I'm almost giddy with anticipation to be able to be ourselves around others. It's exhilarating.

See, the new year is looking awesome already.

"Yup," Brittany beams as I poke my head in the room.

Pulling her brush through her long hair a few more times, she turns to face me with a giant grin on her face. How could I have been so stupid as to make her hide us for so long? Especially when it makes her the happiest I've ever seen.

Laying the brush down on the small dresser, she stands to walk towards me but my mind instantly goes blank. She's wearing these tight black pants that I've never seen her in before, which show off her legs perfectly, and a tight fitted red blouse that hugs every curve. It takes every ounce of willpower I posses not to crash our lips together. We both did just do our make-up and we're already running late. I also know that if we start something, we'll have to finish and that would take time we do not have. It's best for everyone if we keep our hands to ourselves, not that it's an easy feat.

"Jesus," I practically whimper, scanning my eyes up and down her body again. It's like ever since we slept together my attraction has grown even bigger, if that's even possible. "You look absolutely stunning."

"Do I?" she asks flirtatiously, spinning around.

At the sight of her perfect ass, I have to suppress a groan. How is it humanly possible for someone to be so beautiful?

"San," she says with a giggle, waving her hand in front of my face.

"What?" I ask, forcing my eyes away from her body.

"I said it's your turn," she tells me. "You would have heard if you weren't so busy checking me out."

"I'm not checking you out," I defend, "I'm admiring. It's impossible not to stare."

"Yeah, yeah," she laughs. "Now spin for me. I know that dress is doing wonders for you boobs but I really want to see your butt."

Shaking my head, I do as she asks. "Can we go now? We're gonna be late."

"Can I just admire you for one more minute?" she asks, smirking, and I just take her hand to guide us to the front door.

"Admire me tonight," I tell her, "all night long. And then when we get home, I might even let you admire me naked."

I whisper that last part because we're in the hallway and god only know what kind of perverts are leering around, but by the look on her face I know she heard it.

"Santana, Brittany," I hear a voice call and turn to see Mr. and Mrs. Simon standing just behind us. My initial instinct is to pull my hand from Brittany's but I resist. I have nothing to hide anymore.

"Happy New Year," Brittany greets cheerfully, causing them both to smile. "Are you guys heading to a party?"

"Not quite," Mr. Simon chuckles. "Some of our friends are meeting up to play poker and watch the ball drop on T.V. at their seniors building. What about you two?"

"Our friend Mike is having a party," Brittany tells them, practically bouncing down the stairs.

Without letting go of my hand, she quickly jumps down a few stairs at a time and then waits until Mr. and Mrs. Simon have caught up and then does it again. Too adorable.

"Sounds like fun, dears," Mrs. Simon says. "Make sure you girls are safe. People get a little crazy this time of year."

"Yeah, and don't drink to much," Mr. Simon adds.

"Like you can say anything," his wife teases, causing them both to laugh.

"We'll be safe," I assure them and look to see we've reached the main floor. "I hope you two have a nice time."

"You too," Mr. Simon says, sending me a knowing look.

I feel my face blush despite the cool temperature of the lobby but I can't help but smile. Long after we've gone our separate ways, my face is still warm.

…

Thankfully, it's unseasonably warm for this time of year so by the time we find Mike's apartment building I haven't froze to death. Though I really hope he has a functioning heater because I'm only about 50 percent sure my toes are still attached.

As soon as we enter the building, music can be heard coming from every which direction and I can practically feel the excitement beaming off of Brittany. Confetti and streamers litters the floor and she makes a point to lean down and take a handful, then proceeds to dump it over my head, to which, I can only laugh and return the favour.

Number 219 comes into sigh, door wide open, and I tighten my grip on Brittany's hand. She looks down at me with questioning eyes. "I love you," I tell her, "so much."

Smiling widely, she tells me she loves me too. All day, she's seemed a little guarded. I know she was excited for the party and everything but I think there was a part of her that didn't believe I would actually go through with this.

An idea pops into my head, causing a smile to tug at the edges of my lips. She looks at me curiously as I reach for the locket secured tightly around her neck but her smile grows impossibly wider when she realizes what's happening. With the tips of my fingers, I open the locket, separating the two hearts to reveal our names inside.

Without a word, our hands find each other's again and we walk into the apartment.

The majority of the noise from outside is definitely not coming from this place, thankfully, because there is only a small group of about 10 or so people gathered in the living room and music isn't even playing yet. Immediately I spot Mike, bent over in front of the stereo system presumably trying to get it to work.

I'm still busy surveying the crowd when Brittany squeals at my side and I turn to see her face lit up. I let go of her hand so she can run to whoever it is she has spotted and see her jump into the arms of some dark haired, Hispanic man. His arms wrap tightly around her body and he lifts her off the ground.

"I missed you so much," I hear the man say, letting Brittany down onto her feet. "How have you been, tell me everything."

There is something about him that reminds me so much of Kurt, besides the fact that he's as queer as a three dollar bill. Maybe it's the feather in his hat.

"I've been awesome," Brittany answers. Turning back, she reaches her hand out to take mine. "This is my girlfriend, Santana," she introduces. I feel my stomach flutter at her words. "We went back to her parent's house in Ohio for the break. San, this is Josiah. He's a junior in the dance program."

"Hola Santana," he greets, taking my hand into his and placing a light kiss on the back of it. "Such a pretty name for a pretty girl."

"Thanks," I say shyly. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," he smiles. "Well I'm going to go see if I can help Mike out so we can get some music up in here. You two ladies have fun."

"Wait, have you seen Mike's girlfriend around? Tina?" Brittany asks before he leaves.

"Nah, not yet," he tells her, "but I heard Mike say something about food or something. Maybe check the kitchen."

"Gracias," Brittany says in a faux Spanish accent before guiding us towards what I assume is the kitchen.

"He seems nice," I tell her. "Are you guys close?"

"Kind of," she says. "He's been helping me out a lot, with after school practice and stuff. Jo is like the best dancer in the school even though he's years younger, this is only his second year there. I'm just waiting for Justin Timberlake or Beyoncé to call him. He's going to be so famous."

When we turn the corner, I can tell that the kitchen is entirely empty except Tina who seems to be busying herself with something in the oven. It's then I feel my nerves begin to surface. It's much easier to be myself around those I don't know than those I do. It also feels a little awkward that she knows about Brittany and I already.

"Tina," Brittany yells, causing the other girl to jump before throwing her oven mitt in out direction.

"I hate you sometimes," she says before walking over to greet us. Wrapping her arms around Brittany, she tells her how much she missed her.

"Hey Tina," I greet, trying to sound the least awkward as possible.

"H-hi," she stammers before clearing her throat. "I'm glad you guys could come, it's nice to have some familiar faces around here."

And that's it. No questions, no weird looks or comments. That is until Mike finds us and asks about how this happened, a story both Brittany and I are eager to tell. But even then no one mentions high school. Somehow, I feel like these two are a few of the good people around here.

…

When we walk out to the living room again, I see Brittany eying the small group of people dancing and I can tell how much she wants to run out and join them. Trying my best to be the smooth, confident girlfriend I'm not, I reach my hand out and lean forward a little. "Would you dance with me?" I ask with a laugh.

Her face lights up and she nods, taking my hand into hers and guiding me into the open area where the furniture has been pushed to the walls so the room acts as a makeshift dance floor.

Mike and Tina follow suite and soon pretty much everyone in the apartment are dancing along. Though I'm one of the only people here who doesn't know everyone, I still feel like I'm dancing with some of my best friends. I don't know if it's the time of year or what but these people all seem extremely welcoming. I should have expected Brittany not to be friends with any assholes.

The song changes and butterflies immediately make their presence known in my stomach. Dancing together and _dancing together_ are two entirely different concepts and I think Brittany realizes that as a slow song fills the speakers and people begin pairing off. Not hesitating, I take her left hand into mine, not trusting myself to lead, and snake my left one gently across her waist to rest on the small of her back.

The look of shock that passes over her face is fleeting, soon being replaced by a wide smile, but I still catch a glimpse of it. The smile on my face soon matches her as I realize how refreshing this feels, to be able to act like a couple and not worry. After tonight, there will be no part of be that will want to go back to hiding.

"I'm glad we did this," I smile, looking up at her.

"Me too," Brittany hums.

She already has a nice few inches on me but with the added height of her heals, she's tall enough to rest her chin on the top of my head as we sway back and fourth. Though she is a far more skilled dancer than I am, it's hard to tell because what we're doing now can barely even be classified as dancing. Other couples dance circles around us while our feet simply lift off the floor, then land back on the same spot, allowing our bodies to sway along with the music.

It's calming, to be able to hold her like this, to feel her body pressed against mine. Nothing could ruin this night.

…

"What the hell is she doing here?" I ask Brittany, laying my cup down on the table slightly harder than necessary.

The decision to forgo alcohol seems more idiotic than every. I wanted to keep my head clear for tonight, to sure I didn't screw up or make a fool of myself around these people, but I would give about anything to be plastered right now.

Turning around to see who I'm talking about, I watch Brittany's expression fall. "Seriously, Santana?" she asks in a annoyed tone. "Why are you doing this tonight?"

She sounds pissed. Okay, she is pissed but it's not my fault. All I wanted to do was spend tonight with my girlfriend at a party and have a nice time. It's not my fault that the slut from Rachel's after party, the one who was all over Brittany, showed up.

I suppose it's not Brittany's fault either but that is completely beyond the point.

"Did you know she was going to be here?" I ask, trying to calm myself but my rage is never an easy thing to manage.

"Well," she starts, lowering her voice a little. Instead of answering, she pulls me out of the kitchen and down the short hallway leading to the bathroom. "She's Mike's best friend's girlfriend," she explains.

At her words, my body instantly relaxes and my eyes shoot up to meet Brittany's. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me that, Britt?"

"Because it didn't matter, it doesn't matter," she explains. Her forehead wrinkles slightly as she says the words and that's a give away that she's not pleased with me. "If she was single or even gay it didn't matter because you made a complete fool of her in front of her friends, her classmates. You made a fool of me too, not to mention yourself."

"Britt, I'm sorry."

"I know you are," she tells me, reaching her arms out to put them on my shoulders. "I haven't been mad about that since the night it happened because I knew the circumstances and understood why you did it. Chelsea on the other hand, she probably thinks your some crazy psycho."

She sends me a smirk and I let out a small laugh. "True," I agree. "I should probably apologize to her, shouldn't I?"

"Santana Lopez actually offering to apologize? What has this world come to?" Brittany laughs and I try to look offended but it just causes her to laugh harder. "But yes, you really should. She's kind of my friend and you're my girlfriend so it would be kind of nice. Even if it's just for me."

_It's the right thing to do_, I tell myself. But no matter how many times I repeat it on my way to the girl, I can't stop my teeth from gritting together.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Brittany watching intently so I raise my hand to tap on the other girls shoulder.

"Chelsea?" I ask nervously, causing her to turn away from her friends to look at me.

It takes her a moment to fully realize who I am but as soon as she does her eyes narrow in on my face. More than anything, I want to return the glare, I've never been one to back down from a challenge, but I need to be the bigger person here. Hell, there is no bigger person because I'm the jealous ass that went off on her for merely dancing with the girl I liked. She was never at fault.

"I saw you come in and I kind of figured you deserved and apology," I start weakly. "I mean, crap I suck at this."

Shaking her head back and fourth, I can almost see the bitch-mode slip from her face. "You don't do this often, do you?"

"What do you think?" I ask with a nervous laugh. "I was really fucked that night so I barely remembered anything the next morning but after Brittany so kindly reminded me, I realized how much of a bitch I was being. I was acting like a jealous girlfriend, which wasn't even a title I had the rights to at the time, and I honestly feel horrible for embarrassing you like that. It's was a shitty move and I'm sorry."

Looking at her, awaiting any indication that that was good enough, I feel an odd stirring in my stomach. If this is what happens when you apologize to someone, I have to say I'm not a fan.

"It's perfectly fine, Santana. That is your name, right?" I nod in response to her question and let her continue. "Brittany filled me in a little on your whole situation so I'm not mad at you. If my boyfriend didn't know who Brittany was, he probably would have reacted in a similar manner."

Nodding again, I look down the my hands. "Well, okay then."

With nothing else to say, I head back to Brittany who is watching intently. The stirring in my stomach has turned to another feeling entirely but I try to push it away as I get closer to my girlfriend.

"I did it," I tell her.

"I see that," she laughs. "How did it feel?"

"Fine," I say quickly, but she isn't fooled. Instead, she places her hand under my chin to raise my head so I'm looking at her. Without the willpower to wipe the smile from my face, she sees it and knows.

"It made you feel good, didn't it?" she asks, but she isn't teasing this time. I think she might actually be proud that I have shown the presence of a heart around someone who isn't her.

Shrugging my shoulders does little to change the look on her face. "Fine, okay. It felt good. Can we please drop it now?"

"Of course we can," she smiles, "I just really wanted to hear you say it out loud."

True to her promise, the topic is dropped but we end up spending some time with Chelsea who actually seems like a pretty decent person. Her boyfriend is also quite nice and doesn't seem to hold my attack on his girlfriend against me, which I am thankful for because he looks as though he could easily throw me off a building. Meeting her friends, seeing her enjoy herself like this, it makes me feel special that Brittany would allow me to see this other part of her life that, up until recently, I was completely in the dark about. She wants to introduce me to the people in her life and I don't think there is any better way to prove to me that she is in this as much as I am, not that there were ever any doubts before.

…

"I can't believe it's almost 2013," Brittany squeals loudly, jumping up and down at my side as we watch the countdown on the T.V. which everyone has crowded around.

_10 seconds._

"I know."

_9 seconds._

I smile at her.

_8 seconds._

She smiles back.

_7 seconds._

I want to kiss her.

_6 seconds._

I think she wants to kiss me too.

_5 seconds._

My eyes drift down towards her lips.

_4 seconds._

I snake a hand behind her neck.

_3 seconds._

"San," she whimpers at my touch.

_2 seconds._

I pull her down to my level.

_1 second._

This is really happening.

_0 seconds._

"Hap-" Brittany starts but I instantly cut her off my covering her lips with my own, something she doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

Despite the people around us, the sound of Auld Lang Syne playing loudly, crackling fireworks, and the teenagers running up and down the hallway, the world around me goes quiet as our lips press together.

People bang into us, blow noise makers in our ears, but all I can focus on are those perfectly soft lips and a stirring in my lower stomach.

All day, I've been trying to remember where I've been previous years at this exact moment. The setting has always been the same, at my mother's New Years Eve party, but the situation different. When I was younger, all of the kids would run out into the backyard to watch my uncle set off fireworks. We'd get sparklers and noisemakers, and just be kids, running around in the snow until the fireworks ran out and our parents begged us to go inside.

Then, when the teenage years hit, my friends would join in on the festivities. For the first few years it was only Quinn and Puck, but then as time passed Puck started bringing girls with him and Quinn and I decided we needed to bring some guys in to even things out.

By the time we were 16, alcohol was being snuck in and I barely registered that my parents were in the same house, let alone that the clock hit 12.

Last year, Puck wanted to see how many girls he could kiss within the first minute of the new year and that would have made him my first new years kiss. Too bad for him that I kicked him in the balls before he had the chance, subsequently ruining his chance at breaking a world record or whatever it was he was trying to accomplish.

So yeah, it took 18 new years for me to finally get a kiss at midnight. I'm not embarrassed by that, however, proud actually. When Brittany and I got together, I wasn't innocent by any means but to be able to give her a first of mine, it feels special and then the added bonus of kissing in public like this.

For me, and hopefully her, this isn't just a kiss. Even if it is, I still wouldn't want to forget it anytime soon.

…

"Last night was amazing, Britt-Britt," I tell her, moving from my side of the bed to hers.

"Wasn't it?" Brittany agrees. "Mike really knows how to throw an awesome party."

"Not exactly what I was referring to," I laugh, trying to pull the blanket off her naked body, "but that was fun too."

Giggling, she wraps the thick material around her again.

"I like it when you call me Britt-Britt," she smiles, causing me to smile in return. "I've never really liked it when people call me baby or things like that. They totally could have used the same pet name on every single girlfriend before me and think it's perfectly fine to call me the same. It's gross."

"Well," I laugh, "I've never called anyone baby, boy or girl, but I like the way you think. It's so impersonal unlike Britt-Britt, which I will only ever use on you."

"I love you," she says, kissing the top of my head. "How do you feel about pookie for you? Maureen really seemed to like using it in RENT and-"

"God no," I laugh, hoping she isn't serious. "You do realize she used that for both Mark and Joanne, and they both hated it."

"I guess," she muses, "I'll have to get back to you with a better name."

"Okay," I hum, allowing my eyes to close.

With school starting again next week, mornings like this aren't going to be as easy to come by and I want to make sure I spend every moment possible in her arms.

…

"Good morning again," Brittany smiles, her head resting on top of mine.

I must have dozed off because the next time I open my eyes the clock on my bedside table reads 1:30PM and my initial reaction is to jump out of bed. Then I remember where I am and how little I actually have to do today and I relax.

"Morning," I mumble.

As we lay there in silence, taking in every detail of each other, a thought crosses my mind. It's not something I want to bring up right now, the mood is too perfect to ruin, but it's also something that's been on my mind for a while and I'm not sure I can hold it in anymore.

"Can I ask you something?" I look up at Brittany, trying to let her know I'm being serious for once.

"Of course you can, San. You can ask me anything."

When she smiles at me, I just about tell her never mind, that it's nothing. But then I remember last night and how perfect everything was. It was the first time I really every experienced being out and it was much easier than I expected, but it still left me with some questions that only Brittany will be able to answer.

"How did you do it?" I blurt before realizing she has no idea what I'm talking about. Taking a few breaths, I try to figure out the best way to phrase my question. "Back when you first got outed to the school, how did you deal with that? You told me about when you told your mother and the Berry's, but you never talk about what happened at school." Not just that. She rarely talks about McKinley at all and I lack the backbone required to bring it up. Old wounds would be broken opened for both the bullied and the bullier and I'm too pathetic to deal with that. "Not that I'm pressuring you to now, I'm probably overstepping but I just wanted to know because I've been thinking about it a lot lately, with coming out to my parents and all. I had the advantage of being able to come to terms with it on my own, tell people as I saw fit. If someone had just blurted it out to the world one day, I don't think I would have been able to handle it."

"That's an awfully big question for so early in the morning."

"Britt, it's almost 2 in the afternoon."

"I know," she smiles, "it's still morning for you though. You just woke up."

The smile on Brittany's face dims as she takes a few minutes, starring off into space, and I watch her intently. To be inside her mind for only a single minute would be the most magical experience, I feel. Being granted full access to her thoughts, to catch a glimpse of how things work. It would be incredible.

"Well for me, I guess, it really wasn't all that bad. Not that it was fun but it could have been worse. Like I told you, I'd known since I was pretty young that I was into girls," she explains, not letting her eyes leave mine. "I had already come to terms with it and the people I loved knew, it was only the kids at school who hated me already that thought it was new information."

Nodding along with every word, I make sure to keep my mouth shut. Apparently I have a bad habit of asking a question and then inserting my commentary before the person has finished answering. Quinn tells me it's annoying so it should be avoided. Also, listening to Brittany speak is quite enjoyable.

"My girlfriend, or well the girl I was with-kind of, I don't know what to call her exactly," Brittany's words fumble out and I can see that she feels like she's treading on thin ice by speaking of this topic.

"You can talk about her, you know," I assure her, "I won't mind." She looks surprised, as though she isn't buying it. Honestly, I'm barely believing myself so she doesn't exactly have reason to either. "And even if it did bother me, I really need to start working on this whole _jealous girlfriend _act. It's not doing much for me."

"It's really not," she agrees with a smile. "But yeah, the girl. Her name is Lana and she was a year ahead of us, and she was a Cheerio," she says and I nod in response.

I remember when Sue found out one of her cheerleaders had just switched schools without warning. She never cared much about why it happened but she was ready to press charges for the sudden departure before Lana's father calmed her down. How he did that, I will never know.

"We both knew how dangerous it was, Lana being one of the most popular kids while I did my best to make sure no one noticed me, but she just approached me one day after Cheerio's practice let out. I was waiting for Rachel to finish up in the choir room so she could give me a ride when she just walked up behind me and basically asked me to have sex with her."

My body tenses at her words, the thought of someone else's hands on Brittany makes me kind of nauseous, but I force myself not to make it obvious to Brittany.

"You know me San, and you know that's not the type of person I am," she says, defending herself. I want to tell her that it isn't necessary, because it isn't, but I know she needs to do it for her own sake. "I would never agreed to it had it been anyone else but there was always something about her that made me want to know her. Maybe it was a crush or maybe I just wanted to be her friend but I always wanted to be around her so I let her explain what she meant and we made a deal. That first day, she didn't really say much but I could tell that this wasn't just a random hookup for her, I knew she wouldn't risk everything for that."

Not knowing what else to do, I nod my head. It's not because I understand though, no matter how much I wish I could I don't think I'd ever understand how someone could agree after being propositioned like that. Especially by someone who bullied them and made them keep their relationship a secret.

Wait…

"So we started hooking up," Brittany states. "She had two rules for me. One was that I was to tell no one, not even Rachel, and I was really good at that because you know how good I am with secrets," she smiles proudly. "The other one was that feelings could never be involved, which again seemed like something I could handle."

Damn it, that doesn't sound good.

"I was really good at that one too. Whenever we were kissing or doing things, I could separate it from my feelings. Almost like an egg. But then one day, she caught me by surprise when she told me she loved me and I let the yoke slip from the shell and I said it back. It was impossible to take the feelings away after that. Believe me, I tried everything."

Brittany stops talking all of a sudden and I look at her questioningly, wondering what happened. When her hand reaches out to wipe at my face, I realize that I've been crying.

"Oh, shit," I say, hastily trying to whip my face with the sheet.

This is not how I wanted this to happen, I didn't want to seem like the pussy who can't handle hearing about their girlfriend's ex. Fucking shit, when did I become so fucking pathetic?

"I should stop," Brittany says softly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Maybe that's not why I'm crying though. Maybe this has something to do with the fact that this story seems familiar, almost too familiar.

"Britt, this is not your fault," I tell her, shaking my head back and fourth. "I asked and you only answered. But you can't stop now. I promise I can handle it and I know if you don't tell me the rest my frustratingly vivid imagination will make up what I presume will be a much more revolting ending."

"If you're sure," she says and I quickly give my approval. "It's almost over anyway. So, um, after that, things got a lot more serious. We weren't just getting together to hook up, we would actually talk and I got to know her a lot better. I felt like Christine and she was the phantom, like I was the only one who really got to see what she was hiding."

Even in my pitiful state I have to laugh at that. It's official, she has spent far too much time with Rachel.

"The entire summer, we spent the days she didn't have training getting to know each other deep in the darkness of her parents basement. She would even build forts with me which is something not even Rachel would do, so I thought she was pretty amazing. When school rolled back around though, something changed. Before, when she would usher me out before her parents got home, now she introduced me to them as one of her friends and let me stay for dinner. She also didn't jump as much when we were together and she even told me she was thinking about telling her parents about us someday. It was her who decided to go to the movies together. It was a weekday, late in November, and she took me to see _Tangled."_

This is where the story started when others told it.

"She didn't make any rules for that night, which was surprising, but I didn't complain. That's also why I didn't pull away when she kissed me."

She says that last part abruptly and I feel her body stiffen.

"That's it," she states, pushing herself up into a seating position. Either she forgot she was naked or just doesn't care because I now have the perfect view of her bare upper half. "She called me the next morning before school, crying through the phone because she'd seen the article on Jacob's website. When I offered to come over, she just started yelling at me and I have a hard time focusing when people are yelling so I tried to block it out. After a few minutes, the dial tone was ringing in my ear and that was that. School sucked over the next few weeks, only slightly more than it usually would, but I got through it. I just remember being really glad Lana wasn't around because she would have had it so much worse. Every night, I would practice my speech for when she called to check in, I didn't want her to know people were being mean, she needed to know I could handle everything, so I practiced. But she never called and eventually Rachel convinced me that it was over."

Fresh tears spring to my eyes but I hold them back because this isn't my time to cry. Picturing Brittany sitting by the phone, waiting for it to ring is just an image I will never be able to erase from my mind. When Brittany loves, it's with her entire being. Nothing is half-assed with her so if she tells someone she loves them, she means it, and they're in it for the long haul.

"It hurt because I loved her," Brittany mumbles, holding back her tears surprisingly well. "I loved her and I never got a chance to say goodbye, but that wasn't everything. She was also my friend, you know. I've never had many friends to start with and then she came along. At that point, she was the only person aside from Rachel that I felt comfortable around, who I thought wouldn't judge me or make fun of me. She never called me names and she made me feel special."

"I'm sorry Britt," I try, knowing it doesn't matter what I say at this point, as long as she knows I'm here for her. "

"It doesn't matter anyways," she says defeated, "Lana turned out to be like everyone else. She left me in the end and broke my heart. In a way, she was almost worse because she told me she never would, she promised me that I meant something to her."

Not knowing what to say, I sit up against the headboard and take her into my arms. The tension falls from her body at my touch and she presses further into me, flushing her naked skin against mine, and a thought suddenly has my stomach churning. If I can comfort her so easily, if by doing nothing more than holding her I can make her feel better, how little would it take for me to completely break her?

How little would it take for her to completely break me?

"I would never do that to you," I tell her, hoping realizes just how much I mean it.

"I know you wouldn't," she tells me, "because you're different. I don't know how but something feels different with you than it ever has with anyone else. You make me feel safe, loved, and completely at ease whenever we're together and there isn't possibly anyone else around who could do that. You're magical."

* * *

**A/N 2:** As you may have noticed, it took a few extra days for this chapter and I hate to inform you that this is probably the end of this quick updates. Classes started yesterday and I already feel like I'm in over my head so this story won't be getting as much attention as I wish to give it. That being said, I'm still going to try and aim for weekly updates because I don't have the self control to keep myself away for long!

Anyways, tell me your thoughts/concerns/wishes for this story. I love reading what you have to say.


	15. Chapter 14

**A/N:** I decided to postpone the whole shit hitting the fan thing to try and satisfy some reviewers, and it just happened to be around Valentine's Day in this story so it gave me a chance to do so. As I mentioned a couple of updates ago, someone wanted to see a Brittany POV chapter so I attempted that. Others were asking for some more smut, and then the majority of you didn't want anything bad to happen quite yet. All of these things have been attempted in this update, but attempted is the operative word.

For those of you worrying about what's to come, you'll just have to wait another little while! Sorry.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Brittany's P.O.V.**

Valentine's day is on Tuesday which means I only have three days to plan the perfect date for Santana.

The first time I mentioned it to her, she kind of shrugged me off and mumbled something about how it wasn't even a real holiday, just something the card industry invented to steal money out of our pockets. After she explained that they didn't actually stick their hands in our pockets and take anything, because that would be bullying and I do not accept that, I managed to convince her to let me take her out.

Okay, it also took a little bribing and some sweet lady kisses but it was totally worth it. From 5 o'clock on Tuesday until the next morning, I have full permission to take Santana wherever I want and she doesn't get to pay a single dime.

This is going to be so awesome!

…

Something you need to know about me is that I, Brittany S. Pierce, am super sneaky.

For example, back when my sister was in hospital, her and I would always think up with these great escape plans to get her out of there. We would spend hours drawing up maps, she always had the orange crayon and I used the purple, and figuring out the best ways to get around the nurses and our parents. It was a really good distraction from all the annoying beeping and paging sounds.

One day in autumn, a few days before Halloween, Milly decided that she wanted to escape that day because the leaves on the tree outside her window had fallen off and she wanted to see them on the ground. I knew which wires had to stay attached to her because we always went for walks (well she rolled) around the hospital, so I quickly got rid of everything else and lifted her into her chair.

We passed nurses and doctors, other patients and their parents, and none of them suspected a single thing. When the exit came into sight, Milly started to squeal with excitement but I quickly silenced her so we could sneak past the main desk and outside.

I remember running and then the feeling of cool air hitting my face. Milly's eyes were wide in amazement and she pointed out everything to me as though she was seeing it all for the first time. Like the small birds in the barren trees, or the pink tint to the sky. I don't know how long we sat out there but those moments with her really changed the way I look at the world around me. Made me start to appreciate the little things.

It was completely worth getting grounded for a month and not being able to go trick-or-treating.

Anyway, the point of that story is that I'm super sneaky which is relevant right now because, when Santana went to shower this morning, I snuck into her bedroom to find her mother's phone number in her cell.

Obviously, it would have been much easier had I just asked her for it, I'm sure she would have given it to me, but that would of ruined the surprise.

Also, this way was much more fun.

"_Hola,_" I hear a voice answer and I smile. She sounds so much like her daughter on the phone.

"Hola, Maribel," I greet, trying to make my accent sound as authentic as possible. Whenever I say something Spanish, Santana just ends up calling me cute and kissing me. I don't know if that means it sounds good or not.

"_Brittany,_" she says, excitement in her voice. "_How are you?_"

"I'm good," I answer, "really good actually. I was wondering if you could maybe help me out with something."

"_Of course, of course,_" she says sounding interested, "_anything for my daughter's girlfriend._"

My cheeks blush at her words and I'm glad she isn't here to see this. I forgot I haven't had the chance to speak with her since she found out about me and Santana. Good to know Santana wasn't lying when she promised her mom was cool with it because this could have turned into a very awkward situation.

"Valentine's Day is coming up and I want to make it perfect for Santana, including the food. When I was trying to figure out where to take her or what to make for dinner, I remembered you showing me a few of your mother's recipes back in Lima and I was wondering if I could maybe borrow some."

A squeal comes from the other end of the phone, loud enough that I have to pull it away from my ear, but I can't help but laugh at her excitement. She sounds more pumped about this than I am.

When she finally calms down, apologizing for any damage she may have done to my ear, Maribel tells me to grab a pen and paper and she reads me the ingredients and directions to make a few different things. Eying the list, it looks like a challenge but I know it's going to be worth it.

"Thank you so much. This is gonna be awesome."

"_Anytime, Brittany_," she says and I can almost hear the smile in her voice. I really like Santana's mother. She's such a nice, all around awesome person. "_You take care of my baby, okay?_"

She doesn't use a threatening voice, or try to scare me like a lot of parents would do. I mean, she has every reason to hate me, for turning her daughter gay and stuff. I know it's not a real reason because it's impossible to turn anyone into anything they're not, but a lot of people think that way. I'm glad Maribel isn't like that though, I really wanted her to like me. Maybe I'll be invited back for Christmas next year and show her how good Santana and I are together as a couple.

"I will, promise."

"_And make sure she takes care of you, too. You're part of this family now and I know how hotheaded she can get at times. You have my number if you ever need me to set her straight_."

Her sincerity, even though she says it jokingly, is actually kind of sweet and my words catch in my throat. "Thank you," I tell her, not sure exactly what I'm referring to before hanging up the phone.

Still smiling from the conversation, I quickly dial another number on my phone before hitting talk.

…

"I must say, Brittany, the thought and effort you are putting into this day is definitely paying off," Rachel praises as we walk down the snack aisle at the grocery store. Santana loves snacks, I love snacks, it's perfect for everyone if snacks are involved. "It's nice to see you so excited about it."

Even though she always tells me I have good ideas, something about hearing Rachel say it this time makes me smile extra wide, adding a skip to my step. Ever since I flipped my calendar over to February and drew a huge red circle around the 14th, it's the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning, even before Santana agreed to anything.

This has to be perfect.

Santana is like the best girlfriend even. Not even like, she is definitely the best one out there and she choose to be with me so I need to make this special for her to make sure she knows for sure that I love her more than anyone else, that I don't ever want us to break up.

That would be sad.

I spot the Fruit Roll Ups and make a move to grab a box before thinking back to what Santana said about them, about how Puck and a few of the other boys would hit her with them back in elementary school. She tried explaining that they only did it to tease her, because apparently that's what boys do when they have crushes, but I didn't understand, still don't. Why not just tell someone you like them instead of bullying them? Even though they're my favourite, I decide not to get them so it doesn't make her upset, I don't want her thinking of anyone else but me for the whole night.

Besides, I won't need them to make me happy. Hopefully she will be happy and that's enough to bring a smile to my face. Happiness is totally more contagious than the flu.

"Don't you think you should probably get some real food too?" Rachel asks.

Of course I plan on getting real food, why else would I have asked Rachel to come with me? Buying snacks isn't something I need help with. "Yeah," I tell her, not wanting to make her feel bad for asking something so silly. "Let's go."

I grab a couple bags of the mini cookies I know Santana likes and some gummy worms before jumping on the front on the cart to let Rachel lead the way.

The reason I decided to ask Rachel to come along was because one, she's my best friend and supermarket shopping can get really boring when you're alone, no one to push you in the cart or anything, and two, because I'm going to be using a lot of ingredients I'm not too familiar with and I really don't want to mess this up.

"Have you figured out where this mysterious date is going to happen yet?" Rachel asks, shooing me off the cart.

I take it back, Rachel's no fun at all.

"I'm working on something," I tell her, not wanting to give too much away. As much as I love Rachel, Santana's right, she does try to weasel her way into other people's business.

"I'm not going to blab or anything," Rachel frowns, stomping her foot.

Laughing, I jump off the cart to grab a few items off the shelf. "I know you would never do such a thing," I tease. "I seriously don't know where it's going to happen yet. I have someone helping me get the perfect place."

She looks at me, trying to decide whether or not I'm telling the truth, before nodding and beginning to push the cart again.

From a very reliable source, I've learned that Rachel's had more knowledge of every date Santana and I have been on than I was aware of and it's kind of nice to be able to keep this one to myself. Not that I'm not happy that I have her to help me, or that Santana's comfortable enough around her to ask for help, but I want this one to be different.

This one is for the two of us only.

…

"Britt," I hear Santana call as the front door opens, "are you home?"

My heart actually leaps in my chest at the sound of her voice but I try to compose myself, to stay calm, cool, and collected. My eyes search out the alarm clock on my dresser and I see that it's only 4 o'clock. She can't see me yet, it will ruin the entire illusion.

"Yeah," I call back, pressing myself against my bedroom door.

I know the next thing she's going to try to do is come in here and I can't let that happen, so I have to block the entrance.

"The hell?" she questions, and I feel the door knock against my body a few times. She's so predictable.

"You can't see me, silly," I laugh, slacking against the door now that she isn't trying to break it down anymore. "We have to get ready first."

"Has Rachel been feeding you this crap again?" she asks and I can tell by the volume of her voice that she's still on the other side of the door. "Because I'm about to go all Lima Heights on her midget ass. She thinks everyone's business is her own and it's so fucking frustrating."

Another laugh falls from my lips at her outburst but I don't let her hear it. Santana likes to make people believe she's this tough girl who you shouldn't mess with but I know different. Even now, I can tell that she isn't mad at Rachel, there's no bark to her bite and, even if there was, she would never hurt Rachel. She loves her too much.

Don't tell her I told you that.

"You have an hour to get ready," I remind her and hear a grunt in return before she makes her way next door to her own room.

For the next hour, as I finish getting ready and look over some school work in attempt to kill the time, Santana stays on my mind and a smile on my face.

…

"One hint, Britt-Britt," Santana begs as Juilliard comes into view, "please."

I place a quick kiss to her cheek, how could I not when she's being so adorable, but I just shake my head and laugh at the pout that forms on her face. I thought I was the only one allowed to pout in this relationship.

"Just a few more minutes," I tell her, swinging our joined hands.

As we get closer to our destination, I feel the butterflies in my stomach begin to flutter but I try my best to hide my nerves from Santana. It's not like this is our first date, or even the first date I've planned, but it's our first Valentine's Day together and I want it to be special. I want this to be the first of many we spend together so I really want her to enjoy herself.

"Okay, we're here," I announce as we stand outside of a large building.

She just looks at me curiously but I don't say anything, just offer her a smile and open the door to let her inside.

"Are we even allowed to be in here, Britt?" she asks, eyes darting around the dark entrance.

"What if we aren't?" I ask, playfully. "Is the badass Santana Lopez afraid of getting caught?"

She mumbles something under her breath, something that sounds suspiciously like a curse word that rhymes with duck yo, but I ignore it and guide her further dawn the hall.

I don't have any classes in here, first years never get the chance to even come in here, but Josiah has some pull with a few teachers and, because he's awesome, arranged for me to have the place tonight.

_Note to self: remember to bake him some cookies._

Aside from pictures, I've never seen the inside and it looks completely different in person. Though the hallways are eerily silent, save for the click of Santana's boots on the shiny wood floors, you can practically hear the music bouncing off the walls, picture the crowds gathered in here, waiting to step foot into the theatre itself. That feeling I get every time I step into the dance studio, of overwhelming excitement and calmness all at once, it's the same in here.

_The Peter Jay Sharpe Theatre. _

This stage is one of the biggest in the entire school and it's where many of the performances are held. I haven't had the chance to perform here yet but I would give anything to take that stage, to show everyone that I'm not just the ditzy blonde they can pick on. I just want to get up there and yell _'I'm good at something' _and watch their faces as they realize I'm not lying.

Maybe someday I'll even get to choreograph something performed on that stage. Wouldn't that be so awesome?

Every since I was a little kid, I knew I wanted to be an dancer. School was always hard for me, for as far back as I remember, but as soon as I stepped on that dance floor I didn't feel stupid anymore. When people would watch me, praise me, it made me feel like I was actually worth something. It made me feel special.

Then I actually got into one of the best dance programs in the country, which was the coolest thing ever, and I knew then that I had a real chance. No matter how much work it is, or how many times I fall, I keep pushing myself to be the best I can be because I don't like giving up on things.

Continuity is very important to me.

We finally get to these two million feet tall doors and Santana rakes her eyes over them, her mouth opened in awe. That brings a smile to my face and I push them open, revealing rows and rows of red seats. Pulled across the stage is a large curtain, hiding my surprise from view.

"This place is incredible," Santana says, still in awe of the room around her.

"I know, right?" I smile, "it's so pretty."

My nerves still haven't disappeared but this is definitely a good start to the date and now I'm just anxious to get to the next part. With our hands still joined, we walk down the stairs and to the stage. She turns around to look at the place from this angle but I tug at her hand and guide her to the door which leads backstage.

"Are you sure we're not going to get arrested?" she laughs, not as hesitant anymore.

Her laughter echoes through the small hallway, bouncing off the walls, and we both laugh as we try to find our way to the actual stage. I'm not really the best with directions though so Santana's the one who has to point me the right way after I forgot to read the sign.

Since Josiah helped me with getting this place and Rachel with the food, I asked Mike if he could help me set up everything so today, after Rachel and I finished making the food, he came over and helped me pack everything up to take here.

"Brittany," Santana breathes out and I finally look away from her and to the scene in front of us.

A small grey blanket is splayed across the floor, a few rose peddles carefully placed on it, and next to it there's a small picnic basket. I couldn't come with Mike to help set this up because I had to get myself ready, but I knew there was a reason I trusted him.

He made it perfect and it got Santana to smile.

I should probably make him some cookies too.

"Shall we?" I ask, motioning towards the set up.

Santana looks up at me with a smile, nodding her head, and our hands latch onto one another's as we make our way to the blanket. Though there isn't a chair to pull out to show my super smooth moves, I straighten out a corner of the blanket for her to sit on before taking a seat across from her.

She stares at me, eyes full of love, and we both forget about the basket next to us. That is, until my stomach growls and the mood is killed. Oh well, we have to eat at some point so we might as well do it while the food is still hot.

"You made these?" Santana asks, pulling a Tupperware container of taquitos out and I nod shyly.

"They're your abuela's recipe," I tell her, earning a smile in response. "I made them with your mom back in Lima and she told me they were your favourite. When I was planning today out, I wanted everything to be perfect for you so I thought you should have your favourite food. Hopefully they taste alright, me and Rachel tried to follow the recipe your mom gave me as close as we could but it's not the type of food I'm used to making. I'm more of a mashed potato girl."

"Wait?" she questions, "Berry helped with these? How did you manage to get her to participate in the process of cooking delicious dead chickens?"

We both burst out laughing at that and I realize that, at some point, my nerves have disappeared. Nerves are good to have, especially when they let you know if something is important to you, but they also make me feel weird so I'm glad they're gone. Hopefully I can just enjoy my date with Santana and not worry about any added pressures from the calendar.

…

"Do you think you're going to get to dance here someday?" Santana asks, plopping the final bite of her taquito, which she claimed is heavenly, into her mouth.

It would usually be a this point that dessert would be offered and, because I bought all of her favourites, Santana would gladly accept. I can't do that, however, because she spotted the gummy worms halfway through our meal and declared intermission from real food and we stuffed our faces with as much of the cookies and snacks as possible.

She's pretty much the smartest person I know. I mean, if dance recitals and Broadway shows get to have intermission, why shouldn't dinner?

"I hope so," I smile, remembering she actually asked me a question.

"I don't think you have anything to worry about. You're an amazing dancer, these assholes don't know what talent looks like if they don't let you," she says, returning my smile. I feel my face heat up at the compliment so I quickly take a drink from the basket to cool myself off.

She keeps her eyes on me though, just watching, so I quirk my eyebrow up, wondering what it is she's up to. When she gets like this, all quiet and still, and has that look on her face it's usually because she has an idea.

I don't mind though. I like her ideas.

"Maybe you could do a little warm up now," she suggests and I'm not entirely sure what she's talking about. "On the stage. You could practice a dance, get to know the floor and stuff. Wouldn't want to have you tripping on your big night or anything-"

I've always found her ramblings cute and it's nice to know I'm not the only one whose nerves decided to come out tonight, but I lean in to cut her off with a kiss anyways. I can tell she's surprised by the action, her lips not moving against mine, but as soon as I raise my hand to cup her cheek, she starts kissing me back and my body instantly starts to tingle. You think after months of getting our sweet lady kisses on, that spark would go away. But not with Santana. If anything, I think that each kiss gets better and better and I'm positive that one of these days she's going to get so good at it, she's going to kill me.

"God, Santana," I whimper as she runs her hand down my back.

Not able to control myself, because duh, Santana is like the best kisser in the entire world, I press myself forward so I can lie on top of her. I know how much she loves being on top so I usually let her have her way, but there is something about the way she reacts when she's being dominated that is just so sexy.

"Britt-Britt," she whispers, breaking the kiss. "I love kissing you, I do, but don't think this is getting you out of anything. I want you to dance for me."

She says that last part into my ear, her breath grazing my fair skin, and it sends a shiver down my spine. I pull back to look at her and there is a glint in her eye, one usually associated with sex, and I can't help but wonder aloud if she means I have to dance for her or _dance_ for her, you know, the sexy kind.

"As much as I would love for you to do," she smirks, sending me a wink, "I think that should wait until we're back home. How about we stick to ballet or hip hop or something."

_Sexy dancing is for private times_. I make a note of that in my head before standing up, whimpering at the loss of contact, but turning my focus to finding a routine to distract myself from the ache between my legs.

My girlfriend is a sex goddess.

"You have to sing for me," I tell her and I immediately see the hesitation on her face, the formation of a rejection on her lips.

It's not really a demand, I just really want to hear her voice. Ever since she got that piano, she's been singing a lot more than she normally did. Not that she's singing much now, she just rarely ever did before. I catch the sound of her voice sometimes in the morning, when she thinks I'm still asleep. Other times, when I have a cancelled class or shift and she doesn't know I'm home, her soft hums can be heard throughout the apartment. I wish she would sing more. Not just because I love the sound of her voice, but because I know how happy it makes her.

I focus back on Santana who seems to be contemplating her answer so I pout out my bottom lip and she's like puddy in my hand. "Okay, okay. What song would you like?"

"Anything," slips out of my mouth and I decide that's a pretty good answer. It doesn't matter to me what she sings, I can dance to anything. It just matters that she sings.

She thinks for a few moments and the raises her head. "You ready?"

For the first few lines of the song, I just listen. Standing there, in the middle of the stage, I listen to my girlfriends voice fill the stage of the Peter Jay Sharpe Theatre with a song I'm not familiar with, but is the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Once I've figured out the tempo of the song and am able to move my feet, I start dancing along as she sings about singing songbirds. It's not really a song you can dance to alone, especially without hearing it before, but I do the best I can, letting the words guide my movements as I dance across the stage.

Dancing is how I let all of my emotions out. Whether I'm angry, upset, or just really excited, dancing has always been the outlet that allows me release. For Santana, singing is how she deals with those emotions. When she sings, it more than just words. The words become a story, each word a paragraph of emotion. It's her escape from reality and it's beautiful to listen to her get lost for a couple minutes. To see every single wall crumble down, allowing the real Santana to become visible.

I get so lost in my own little world, as is often the case when I dance, that I don't notice Santana standing in front of me. She's still singing, her voice slightly lower now, and she takes my hands in hers.

_And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score_

She pulls my body into her, wrapping her arms around me. Copying her, I take her into my arms and sway the both of us back and fourth. She remains silent in my arms, though I think there is still some of the song left, and just nuzzles into my shoulder like she wants to disappear into me.

Not that I would mind. She could ask me to do anything for her and I wouldn't be able to say no.

_And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before, like never before_

The last line is whispered, almost like she's afraid to say the words, and she relaxes into my arms, signaling the end of the song.

"You're amazing you know that?" I ask, copying her whisper as to not break the mood.

Her head peaks up from it's place on my shoulder and I think I can see what appears to be tears forming in them. I'm about to question her on it, wondering what I did to make her cry, but a smile appears on her face and I know these aren't sad tears.

They're the happy kind.

Up until now, I've always been confused when people cry from happiness. Yes, getting married is exciting or winning the lottery, but why would you cry about that? Wouldn't it be better to jump up and down, maybe dance? At least then people would know you weren't actually sad.

But now that Santana is the one with happy tears in her eyes, the same Santana who can barely acknowledge she has emotions most of the time, I think I finally understand. Happiness must be able to bring you to a point where you just can't control yourself anymore, it just needs to be released in anyway possible.

A few stray tears roll down her face and I kiss them away before moving my lips to press gently over hers.

I hope one day I cry happy tears.

…

"You are so damn sexy," Santana husks into my ear, pushing me hard against the front door of our apartment.

After I danced for her, everything changed and I don't think a picnic basket has ever been packed so quickly. We sprinted across campus as fast as Santana's boots would take her, only after I offered a piggy back, and took the first bus back home. The twenty minutes ride felt more like an hour and, honestly, I'm surprised we made it.

Although we managed not to grope each other on a public bus, this hallway is still very much a public area and we should not be doing this here. I know that, and I know I should be looking for the key so we can have a little privacy, but she just makes me feels so good. Whenever she's around, my senses are clogged and I can't really judge what's right and wrong. It's kind of difficult.

The sound of a door closing down the hall makes it a lot less difficult and we instantly separate. It's not like back when we first started kissing and stuff, back then whenever Santana pulled away from me it was because she was afraid of who would see and that hurt a little. Now, we both are the ones who pull away and it's not because either of us are afraid. It's more because we don't want to give anyone a free show and that's exactly what's going to happen if we don't get inside, like, now.

"So you want me to dance for you now, San?" I ask once we're inside, pushing her to sit on the coffee table.

She doesn't resist though and nods her head a few times, her eyes never leaving my boobs. I lean in and place the lightest of kisses against her lips before pulling back, not allowing her to deepen it.

I slide my jacket off my shoulders as I make my way over to the small docking station and scroll through the songs quickly. It doesn't matter what song I choose, I know Santana will be much too preoccupied to even register it in her ears, but I want something I can dance to.

Something I can sexy dance to.

As I scroll through the songs, an odd feeling creeps over me and I slow my finger. You know that feeling when you can tell that someone is watching you even though you can't see them? Well that's what I'm feeling right now. If I turned around, I'm sure I would see Santana's eyes glued on my ass and I have absolutely no problem with that. My ass must look pretty good in these jeans so I wiggle is back and fourth teasingly, earning me a groan and plea to hurry up.

After finding a song, I wait a few seconds before I hit play, wanting to drag this out for as long as possible. When I finally turn around, Santana is sitting on the very edge of the coffee table, jacket and boots now gone, and she's rocking back and fourth subtly, searching for some friction.

"San," falls from my lips at the sight and I almost forget what I'm supposed to be doing before she reaches her finger out, beckoning me towards her.

"I was promised a dance," she husks, pulling the neck of my shirt to bring me closer.

Reaching into her dress, she pulls out a few dollar bills she must have snuck in there while I was getting the music ready. I try my best not to smile at her, wanting to play into her little game, and take her hand in my own to remove it from my shirt.

"No touching," I whisper, sending her a smirk. I pluck the bills out of her hand, sliding them down my own bra, before turning around to face away from her, giving her another perfect view of my ass.

Though she hates to admit it, Santana's far more of an ass girl than anything else, even though she promises she loves my boobs too.

She has pretty awesome ones herself.

I'm totally a boob girl.

A whimper from behind me pulls me out of my thoughts, somewhere I've been getting stuck a lot tonight, and I begin swaying back and fourth to the music. The tempo picks up and I spin around to face Santana whose face is now completely flushed. Her hands are wedged slightly underneath her legs, as though she took my mention of the no touching seriously, and it really turns me on. Seeing her like that, completely under my control.

Toying with the hem of my shirt, I slowly make my way towards her, circling around the table before stopping in front of her.

With the beat, my hips cant forward and my chest pops out, and I can practically feel Santana's hands on my body. Dipping down, I drag my hands up my legs and sides before taking a step forward to place my hands on her shoulders.

"Fucking Christ," she whimpers and I remove one of my hands from her shoulder to place a finger over her lips.

Looking up at me with wide eyes, I can tell she's enjoying her lack of power in the situation. Taking advantage of that, I slide my other hand down to brush it over her covered breast and watch as she shivers. I know this dance thing is supposed to be about her, but I think I'm just as turned on as her at this point.

My hand continues down her body, passing gently over her dress covered abs and thighs until I reach the bottom of the material. Kneeling in front of her, I look up with wide eyes as I teasingly guide my fingers underneath the garment.

I can smell her from here and it's extremely distracting.

Above me, Santana is practically trembling and I mentally give myself a pat on the back for being able to do that to her. I've never been asked to give someone a lap dance before and it was never something that appealed to me, but by the looks of Santana I'm doing a decent job.

My traveling fingers stop mere inches from the place Santana wants them so desperately but I'm not ready for that to happen quite yet. As she presses forward, trying to make contact, I slide them back out and stand up again.

It's then I notice that the song has changed, not that I'm really even dancing to it anymore, but it has a fast beat and I instantly turn around to lower myself onto her lap. As soon as contact is made, we both let out a groan and, if she didn't know before, she definitely knows now that I'm enjoying this as much as she is.

Catching myself, I take back control and grind into her.

"I'm so wet for you, Britt-Britt," she whispers into my ear.

I don't know if it's the rasp in her voice, her breath on my skin, or the actually words themselves but I actually feel myself getting wetter as she says them, blushing slightly. Unable to say anything in return, I instead turn my head around to face her.

I press down a little more, my legs sliding apart and her knee slips through mine with ease. The pressure I feel causes a loud moan to escape from my lips but I can't help wish there was more. I absolutely hate wearing dresses but I've never wished I was in one more than right now.

If this were with anyone else, I would be completely surprised by the heat in my tummy and the wetness between my legs, but this is Santana. For some reason, not excluding magical powers or extreme hotness, she can turn me on faster than I thought possible. Even just the touch of her skin against mine cause fireworks to explode behind my eyelids and every thought to rush out of my mind.

"Fuck this," she says, pushing me up off her before standing herself.

I don't need to question her because I know that face, I know that she's totally turned on right now to the point where she's going to explode if we don't do something about it. One time, we were just making out, fooling around and stuff on her bed, and then her body went stiff. It was really obvious what had happened but as soon as she came back down to earth she tried to protest it, I think she was really embarrassed about it which I don't understand. So I just promised her I'd never tell anyone.

Don't tell her I told you that.

That was probably one of the hottest things I've ever seen in my entire life, and that's including Sue Sylvester's rendition of Olivia Newton-John's _Physical_, but I'm sure she isn't looking for a repeat so I go along with her.

Sexy times always happens in Santana's room, if we manage to even make it to a room, and that's probably for the best because one of us usually ends up throwing the other down on the bed and it would be a really far drop to my mattress that's planted on the floor. So the short walk to her room is completely familiar, the feeling of her hands against my shoulders, guiding me to the bed. Undoing my belt, I quickly shimmy out of my tight jeans so they don't get in the way, before moving up on the bed.

Santana follows my lead, moving towards the head of the bed to sit next to me. Taking control, I straddle her hips and force her into a lying position.

"I had an amazing time tonight, Britt," she tells me, bringing a smile to my face. "I know I said Valentine's Day was a shitty, fake holiday but you made it much less shitty than expected."

I take that as a compliment and lean down to kiss her hard. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she hums before pressing her lips back onto mine.

As soon as I try to slide my hand under her dress, Santana's hand finds mine and pulls it back. Just as I'm about to protest, she presses her lips hard against mine and the words are suddenly lost.

"You did all of this for me tonight," she tells me as she pulls back from our kiss. "I want to do this for you now, so would you let me?"

The thing you need to know about Santana is that she doesn't like to appear weak and, for her, showing any sign of emotion is a sign of weakness. No matter how many times I try to explain that she doesn't have to act so tough all the time, that she can actually express her true feelings every now and then, she still insists that she's a badass who doesn't give a shit about anything.

Then there's me.

Not to sound full of myself or anything, but I'm the only one she really feels comfortable being a hundred percent herself around, the only one she feels she can appear weak in front of, even if she rarely does it.

I know that because she told me. Not because I can read minds or anything crazy like that.

When we're alone like this, completely at the mercy of one another, that is one of the scarce moments she lets her walls down. She tries to act her sex appeal up, making her seem like this entirely different, confident person, but I know better. I remember how nervous she was that first time, how gentle yet mechanical her touches were. She was embarrassed and flustered, and I had to talk her through most of it, but it's still one of the best moments of my life. The way she trusted me, how she didn't let her nerves get the best of her and allowed herself to love me.

Maybe I'll tell her that someday. She'll probably just get really embarrassed though so I might just keep it for myself. Something to remember on a bad day.

Giving into her is easy to do and she flips us over, holding my back as so guide me, and she stares down at me with those dark, lust filled eyes, sending a shiver through my body. Without a word, she reaches for the hem of my shirt, lifting it up my body, inch by inch, kissing a path along the way. I lean up to let her remove it completely and she takes advantage of my position, snaking her hands behind me to unclasp my bra.

The bills fall onto the bed but neither of us pay them any attention.

Each time we do this it's like an entirely different experience. We get more comfortable with one another, we try things we haven't done before (not in the kinky way because I think Santana would have a heart attack if I suggested anything like that. Yet, anyways), and it's never the same twice.

Today, she decides to spend a little extra time on my boobs which I usually wouldn't protest but I feel like everything since we entered the theatre has been foreplay and, at her touch, I'm absolutely buzzing.

"S-sann," I whimper as she sucks a nipple into her mouth, her eyes darting up to meet mine. If her mouth wasn't already busy right now, she would have the biggest smirk on her face. I can picture it.

Her head lifts up and, for a moment, I think she's finally going to pay some attention to the area most in need but she instead latches onto the other hardened bud, swiping her tongue over it a few times before placing her lips over it.

"Oh my god," I practically yell, hips canting upwards in search of something to rub against.

I come up short though and lack the control to do anything about it. Instead, I lie there with her tongue flicking over one nipple while her hand massages the other boob in a not exactly gentle manner.

"Gon co," I try to warn her but she just looks up at me, not breaking her pace, with questioning eyes.

I try to answer her but a familiar, amazing feeling comes crashing over me and suddenly my body is jerking against my will. My eyes closed sometime during the whole thing and when I open then I see Santana looking down at me, her mouth opened slightly in what seems like shock.

How can she be so darn cute and sexy at the same time?

"Now we're even," I laugh, breaking her out of her trance.

In this situation, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who should be embarrassed but it's Santana who blushes and I pull her in for another kiss, unable to resist those lips.

Pulling back, she sheds herself of her own dress that she apparently wasn't wearing a bra under. I wish I had known that earlier. Now that we're both left in only our underwear, the smell of sex in the air, I kneel up on the bed in front of her. Her arms wrap around the back of my neck and place a few gentle kisses on my neck.

What surprises me most about the two of us is that no matter how turned on we are or how desperate we are for one another, we always make a point to slow things down, to savor the moment as it's happening. Sex is great and it feels pretty amazing but it's so much better with like this, when you appreciate the person your doing it with and want to remember everything about it. It helps me grasp that this is actually happening.

I think Santana really likes taking those short moments as well.

"I'm not done with you yet," Santana smiles, pushing us both back to lie on the bed.

Before I really have a chance to figure out what's going on, her hands slip under the thin material of my underwear, which are completely ruined due to the best possible reasons. I already came once so when her finger brushes against my slit, I feel my entire body jolt upwards, and a proud smirk crosses her face.

Hooking her fingers in the material, she pulls them down my legs at a painfully slow pace. My eyes are locked on hers and I watch as she situates herself between my legs, her eyes darting to my wetness.

"Santanaaa," I whimper. If she's going to do this, she really needs to get to it because even I would find coming twice without being touched embarrassing. "I need you so bad."

"I want to try something," she says, her voice quiet. The nerves are apparent but so I nod, letting her know that she can do whatever she wants to me.

What I'm not expecting is for her mouth to start kissing at my thighs, light pecks at first that grow to gentle bites as her confidence builds up. Pulling back, she locks her eyes onto mine and then stares right at where I need her the most.

Since we started sleeping together, I've gone down on her a lot. She loves it, I can tell from the amazing sounds that spill from her mouth as I run my tongue through her wetness, and I love making her feel that good. It's definitely one of my all time favourite hobbies.

Her going down on me though, that's something that hasn't happened yet. We haven't ever spoke about it but I can tell she gets upset at herself for never being able to go through with it. I don't mind though because she has the most amazing fingers and apparently she doesn't even need those to give me an orgasm so it doesn't bother me.

Not that I'm going to turn down the offer or anything.

"You don't have to do this," I let her know, not wanting her to feel pressured to do anything.

"I want to," she replies with a hint of confidence in her voice and that's enough for me.

At the first touch of her lips against my heated center, my head is flying back, eyes fluttering closed.

It takes a few more kisses for her tongue to finally slip out of her mouth. I try to force my head up to watch her but as her drags it up and down my center, I'm lucky to still be conscious.

"Yes," I hiss as she focuses on my clit, lapping at it experimentally before sucking it into her mouth.

Unable to control them, my legs start lashing around and she has to use her arms to hold them still. She doesn't seem to mind though because as she adjusts herself, breaking contact, I can still see her smirking as though she's proud to have that effect on me.

She should be too.

Sliding her tongue down a little from it's place on my clit, she begins circling my entrance and I have to force myself not to scream at her to start moving. My hands reach down to the back of her head, begging her to do something, and she finally gives in and slides her tongue inside me.

If I though Santana was a sex goddess before, there isn't even a word invented to describe what it think she is now.

"Mmm," I whimper, forcing myself not to scream because it's late and I really don't want the neighbors to hate me. But I really want to scream, like really bad.

Santana's nose brushes against my clit as she moves in and out of me, my walls beginning to clamp down on her at the sensation. She must be able to feel it and her pace quickens, fingers begin rubbing against the skin of my thighs and it's all too much.

With my heart beating loudly in my chest, my back arches off the bed and I come hard with her name on my lips. She moves inside of me a few more times before slowly slipping out, lapping up any excess liquid and my body twitches a few more times from the aftershocks.

"Okay, okay," I whimper with a smile, unable to take the feeling of her touching me any longer.

Smiling, she moves up the bed to lie next to me. I love to be cuddled, a lot, and Santana knows that so it's no surprise when her hand reaches across by body to pull me closer to hers. Sex is awesome, especially with Santana, but being wrapped in her protective arms is something I wouldn't trade for anything in the entire world.

* * *

******A/N**: As I've said before, I know nothing about Juilliard that a 5 minute internet search couldn't tell me so while that theatre is real, all the facts and thing I've mentioned are probably false as I made them up. It just worked for the story though but I apologize if anyone out there knows more about it and found my errors annoying. Hopefully Brittana being all giddy and happy and completely in love made up for that!


	16. Author's Note

Hey guys. After the reviews I got on the latest chapter I posted, I realized that you were right in saying how rushed an unnatural it felt. I love this story and I love writing for you all, and I really appreciate the comments telling me that it was less than you expected from me. Hearing that you have higher expectations from me is actually really nice. This story is completely unbeta'd so sometimes I don't initially see the mistakes and rough patches so you guys are the ones who can point them out to me. Constructive criticism is important to anyone trying to better themselves at anything and you were all awesome in your reviews, you weren't harsh in your criticisms, and I appreciate that.

That being said, I've decided to take down the chapter and spend some time reevaluating where the story is headed. It might take a few days but I will hopefully have a much better chapter up for you guys soon. I just want to make sure that it's good enough this time, I don't want to rush anything just for the sake of posting a new update.

I really appreciate every single one of you who reads/reviews/follows/whatever this story, it means a lot to me that you actually spend your time with it, and I hope you will stick with this story through this small bump.

Until next time, Stephanie.


	17. Chapter 15

**A/N:** I can't believe it's been over three weeks since I've updated, I'm sorry for making you all wait so long. The comments lead me to believe some of you are still a little confused about the last update, so yes I did update and them delete the chapter shortly afterwards. This chapter contains a lot of the same content from the one I deleted, with a few scenes added and then a completely different ending. All the reviews and PMs I received really made me want to do this story justice and come up with a good chapter for you all so this is my attempt.

Along with wanting to get a few things figured out with this story, I'm also in the middle of midterms right now so my free time is pretty much nonexistent. I have two more next week and then the following weekend is thanksgiving here so I should hopefully have some free time in the near future to focus on this story again.

So, for any of you still reading this insanely long authors note, I hope you enjoy the update.

* * *

"Why are we doing this?" I huff, slumping forward on the counter.

"Because you can't say no to Rachel," Brittany teases and I send her a glare. "You were the one who wanted to meet this Brody guy she's been seeing. Just admit it, you care about her. I promise I won't tell anyone."

Rather than agreeing or disagreeing, I just sigh loud enough for her to hear, earning me a laugh. It's true, I did want to meet this Brody character Rachel's been talking about but I never said I wanted him in my house, let alone have to cook for him. There are many different ways I would rather spend my Monday night than playing hostess to Berry and her man.

Counting the ceiling tiles, for example.

"And what is this green stuff?" I ask Brittany, probing at the questionable substance with a fork.

"That," she starts, taking the fork from my grasp, "is spinach. If you're going to be such a party pooper I think it might be better if you set the table. Wouldn't want you to get poisoned by any of this healthy food."

Not giving into her, I move to the hall closet to search for the table cloth I know we have lying around somewhere. "So have you met this guy?" I call to Brittany. "I mean, how do we know he isn't some type of serial killer who preys on hot girls? We could all end up dead."

"You think Rachel's hot?" she asks and even though I can't see her, I know she's smirking.

"Not the point," I defend, "our lives could potentially be in jeopardy here."

"Should I be concerned? I think I could take her but she does have these crazy, excessive 6 AM workout sessions."

"Found it," I yell, ignoring her teasing and making my way back out to the kitchen.

After the red cloth has been placed neatly on the table, I go to the drawers to grab some cutlery but get distracted by Brittany on the way. "Just for the record," I lean on her shoulder to whisper into her ear, "you're the only one I'm looking at."

Turning around, she raises her arms to place them around my neck before placing a gentle kiss on my lips. "Ditto," she replies with a giggle.

I'm so caught up in Brittany that I don't hear my phone ringing from it's place on the counter. Brittany, however, breaks the moment and reaches out for it.

"It's your mom," she says, extending the phone towards me. "You take it, I'll finish up in here."

…

"Hey ma," I answer once I get to my room. She's been phoning me a lot recently and I feel kind of shitty for ignoring her or blowing her off. I know I'm the last kid to leave home but she should have been having these abandonment issues months ago, not now.

"_Mija_," she greets, her smile evident even through the phone. "_I've missed you so much._"

"I called you like two days ago, now you're just getting needy."

"_I'm your mother, I'm allowed to miss you,_" she says. "_Brittany gets to see you every day, is it that hard to pull yourself away from her long enough to send me a text every now and then letting me know you're alive?_"

Shaking my head back and fourth, I laugh into the phone. Maybe I miss my mom a bit too.

"_Speaking of that girl of yours,_" my face heats up at them mention of Brittany, "_you guys planning a trip here anytime soon? I know she's met the family before but we didn't know about the two of you at the time. I'd really like to meet her as your girlfriend._"

My face is still burning red and butterflies have begun fluttering around in my stomach. She actually seems genuinely excited about my relationship which is nice considering her previous views on the topic. Two months ago, my mother could barely stand the sight of two guys holding hands and now she wants Brittany and I to visit.

Suddenly, my smile falters and the butterflies fade.

She wants Brittany and I to visit, meaning she wants us to stay at her house and spend time with her. She must realize we do far more than just stand next to each other. I mean, I would never flaunt my relationship in her face but I would never be able to restrain myself from being close to Brittany. She's my mother and I know she would never outwardly say anything of the sort, but even the thought of a disgusted look on her face makes me cringe.

She's been trying though, I'll giver her credit for that, and if this conversation is any indication she really is growing a lot more comfortable with the idea. I just don't want to have to force myself back in the closet just to make her more comfortable around me. It was tiring enough working my way out.

"We'll probably be home some time this summer," I answer, deciding it's a pretty decent assumption.

Originally, I'd planned on heading back to Ohio for the three month break. But then I remembered Brittany probably wouldn't be headed back and when I brought it up she explained that she was staying in the city, along with Rachel who has gotten some internship at a small theatre. She asked how I felt about Rachel staying at our place, as her paying half the rent was the only way Brittany could afford to stay and Rachel had nowhere else to go because she couldn't stay in the dorms if she wasn't in class.

That got me thinking that maybe Lima wasn't exactly where I needed to be.

I called Quinn that night to inquire about her summer plans, as she was one of the few reasons Lima didn't seem like the worst possible way to spend the break, and she admitted to not really knowing. I asked how she felt about coming here, to New York, for a while with the three of us and then maybe heading back to Lima for a mini vacation of sorts.

Quinn seemed all but overjoyed at the idea so, for now, that's the plan. Three entire months in one of the most incredible cities in the world with two of my best friends and my gorgeous girlfriend. Things really couldn't get much better than that.

"Ma, Britt's making dinner for a few of our friends and I should really help her out," I explain, not wanting to ditch her again but not wanting to leave Brittany with all of the work. "I can call you later tonight if you want to talk more, catch up on things that have happened in the last 48 hours."

She lets out a small laugh but I can tell there's more to it. My stomach churns and I know I'm not going to like whatever the next words out of her mouth are.

"_I have to-I,_" she starts, searching for the right way to tell me something she obviously knows I'm not going to want to hear. My mother never stutters. "_Your brother, we spoke this morning. I told him, Santana._"

Neither of us say anything.

"_He knows._"

How do I respond to that?

"He knows," I repeat my mother's words. That doesn't make me feel any better. "Do you think he'll, you know, do anything?"

My voice wavers as I ask the question but it try my best not to sound worried. As far as my mother is concerned, Toni and I are on good terms and I really don't want her to figure out anything different. If she does, she'll only feel guilty that she told him about me.

"_He loves you, Santana,_" she explains as though that makes everything alright.

"Yeah," I say weakly. "Well, I really need to head back. I promise to call more often, okay?"

"_Of course, mija. Te amo._"

"Te amo."

_Fucking hell_, I think as I tap the screen to end the call.

But I don't have much time to dwell on it. From the kitchen, I can hear the clatter of dishes as Brittany rushes to get things finished, and then there's a knock on the door. Moving quickly out into the apartment, I tell Brittany that I have it before opening the door for Rachel and her new guy.

Pushing the phone call to the back of my mind, I force myself to get lost in the food and conversation. By the end of the meal, I'm sufficiently distracted.

…

Dinner goes well, or as well as could be expected I suppose.

Brody turns out to be a douche, no surprise there with Rachel's track record, but everyone seems to enjoy themselves and I'm able to control my snaky comments and fight the urge to run the shady fucker out of the apartment. All in all I would have to consider it a success.

"That wasn't too painful, was it?" Brittany teases as she hands me a freshly washed plate.

After eating, Brittany ushered dumb and dumber into the living room so we could clean up the mess. Despite my protests that we cooked so they should clean, she threw a drying cloth at my face and here we are. Doing dishes always makes me feel so grown up and not in a cool, I'm legal I can do whatever the fuck I want way. More like a boring, I feel like my grandmother type of adult. Also, touching other people's leftovers is not a fun thing for me.

A small bang can be heard from the direction of the other two and I manage to hold in a loud sigh that wishes to escape. They better not be touching my stuff.

"It was okay," I answer Brittany's question even though it was probably rhetorical. Wiping the water off of the plate, I examine it before laying it in a pile with the others. "I don't like him though. He's a creepy ass fucker and I think we should revisit the serial killer theory."

Brittany doesn't seem to take my worries seriously, just offering me a smile, and we continue to clean up in comfortable silence. For a minute, I fear that I actually made her upset with my comment but the look she gives me every time her eye catches mine lets me know I haven't. In fact, it almost seems as though she's proud that I haven't torn either of them to shreds yet, both literally and figuratively. I have to admit, it was quite a feat and not one I wish to accomplish anymore throughout my entire life.

...

"So Brody," I turn to face him, taking a sip of my wine, "how did you and the midget get together? All I ever get out of Rachel over here is something about bathrooms and moisturizing routines, and that just seems far too gay to be believable."

"Actually," he says, leaning back on the couch to wrap an arm around Rachel. He has this stupid smirk on his face that I wish I could smack off it, "it's completely true. It was the middle of the night, because that's..."

It takes about two whole seconds for me to zone out which is impressive. After dishes were finished, Brittany and I joined the other two in the living room and decided to have a few drinks. Rachel was hesitant at first because it's a school night, you would swear she was stilling living with her parents, but after a little convincing she was on board. I can't wait until she's completely shit-faced because that Rachel is my favourite.

Rachel and Brody had already claimed the couch so Brittany and I decided to share the old chair, declining Rachel's offer of sharing the couch with them. I'd much rather sit on Brittany's lap anyways. The dull sound of Brody's voice is blurred background noise and I look down at Brittany's face, wanting to find a distraction. She, however, is completely engrossed by the story as though she's hearing it for the first time, though I know that not to be true, but I don't pull her away from that. Instead, I lower my head onto her shoulder and let the sound of her breathing drown out donkey face's voice.

I'm almost starting to enjoy myself, the alcohol leaving me with a nice buzz, when I feel a vibration come from my pocket. Sitting up, I pull my phone out and see my brother's name flashing across the screen. My stomach drops. Not wanting to make a scene in from of the others, I quickly excuse myself to my room to take the call. Brittany shoots me a worried look but all I can do is give her what I'm sure looks nothing like an assuring smile before almost sprinting into my room.

I've been waiting for this call. Ever since I told my mother I've know it was coming, then talking to her earlier only confirmed it, but that does not help suppress the nauseous feeling the has invaded my body. Closing the door behind me, I take a seat on the edge of my bed, take a deep breath, and then hit talk.

"Hello," I answer shyly into the phone.

"_Hey, San_," he answers, words coming out slurred, and immediately I know this isn't going to end well. He's drunk.

"_You want to let me in?_"he asks, "_I'm outside waiting for you_."

_Fuck_. Moving to the window, I try spotting him on the ground below but it's useless. It's too dark and I'm not even sure I'd be able to see that part of the building in complete sunlight.

Internally, I start freaking out. There is no doubt in my mind that he's drunk and passive aggressive Antonio is worst than all the other versions combined. If I don't go down and sort him out, there will undoubtedly be a scene and I don't want to draw anymore attention to this. That being said, leaving the apartment would only worry Brittany and that doesn't necessarily appeal to me either.

Sigh.

"Fine," I decide, knowing Brittany will definitely be the more sensible of the two so I can explain this to her. "I'll be down in a minute. Don't move."

Sneaking out really isn't an option considering Brittany is probably right outside my door but I don't want to tell her anything just yet. When I leave the room, she's immediately on her feet and at my side but I just kind of shrug her off and tell her I have to go check on something outside.

She looks slightly offended and I feel bad but I know she understands, even if she has no idea what it is I have to do. She's amazing like that. I reassure her that I'll be back in a few minutes then slip out the front door before either Rachel or her boy toy get the chance to notice I've left.

...

With each stair, it feels like an extra weight is being added to my shoulders and by the time I reach the second floor I'm not sure I can make it any further. But I push myself, I force myself to take another step and then another. As much as I never want to reach the main floor, I know the longer I take to get there is simply delaying the inevitable.

It's a cool night, that's the first thing that hits me as I step outside. It's nearing the middle of March, winter not too long past and spring just around the corner, so it shouldn't surprise me but it does. For a full minute, I stand on that top step and breath in the cool air, letting it distract me for as long as it will allow.

"What the fuck are you doing?" my brother slurs, making his presence known.

"Good to see you too Toni," I huff, taking a seat on the top step. "Now want to tell me what the hell you're doing here. Don't you have classes to attend or people to piss off? You must have somewhere to be that isn't my doorstep 10 o'clock on a Monday night."

"Well," he starts, twiddling his thumbs as he makes his way over to me on shaky legs, "I had a very interesting call from ma last night so I thought I'd pay my little sister a visit."

I try to keep my shoulders straight, to keep my head held high, but his words are filled with venom and, to be honest, they scare me a little.

"How could you do this, Santana?" he yells at me and I can't help but flinch.

"Toni-"

"NO," he yells, cutting me off. He turns around and takes a few steps away, regaining his bearings, and I'm overwhelmed with the urge to cry. I'm not going to let him get to me though, I'm stronger than that. At least I hope I can pretend to be. "I fucking told you this would happen, her perverted ways rubbed off onto you and now you think it's okay to go parading around, hand in hand with another girl. Jumping into bed with her."

I think of mami, Quinn, Rachel, my friends back in Lima. I think of Brittany.

"It's disgusting. I can't believe you would do this to me, to our family."

"You're the only one who seems to have a problem with it in this family," I retort, trying my hardest to sound intimidating but my voice comes out as scratchy and weak.

"If I have to accept this to be a part of the family then I think I'd rather stay away. Wouldn't want to have my slut of a sister ruining my reputation or anything."

As much as I'd like to believe he's saying these things, acting this way, because he's drunk, I know that isn't the truth. I'd be lying to myself because I've seen him act like this, say terrible things like this when he was completely sober. Maybe it's because, for the first time, they've been directed at me but they take me by such surprise.

"I also need to thank you for screwing up my relationship with Trace," he yells, throwing his hands in the air. "The bitch knew about you guys and left me when I told her how fucked up it is. You screw everything up Santana, ever since you were a kid, I should have known you would figure out a way to screw me over too."

"I'm-"

"Have a good life."

The sound of Antonio's feet crushing the snow as he walks away echoes in my ears.

I watch him go.

I watch my brother walk out of my life.

My head is spinning but my body remains still. I can't force myself to move, not even to cry. Maybe I'm in shock, maybe that's why I have absolutely no control over my body right now. Maybe that's why I feel so numb yet so broken at the same time.

Cigarette.

All of a sudden I get the most intense craving for a cigarette and I root around in my jacket pocket to no avail. That means I'm going to have to go back inside, back into that apartment with the three of them to find one.

Deciding that it's definitely worth it, my feet somehow manage to guide me up those dreaded five levels of stairs and into the apartment. I don't acknowledge anyone as I enter, though it's possible someone calls out my name, and I make a beeline for my bedroom.

Not on the dresser.

Not in the drawer.

Not in the pants I was wearing yesterday.

Where the fuck are they?

In my haste, I pull the sheets off my bed, empty the contents of a few of my drawers, and somehow manage to rip the curtains from the window but I don't even care. I just want my damn cigarettes.

Running my hand through my hair, my eyes scan around the mess to find any sign of them. It's then that I spot my cell phone sitting where I left it, right there on the windowsill, so I take it in my hand and hurl is across the room. It seems like the appropriate thing to do.

I hear it smash against the wall but I don't see it happen.

Instead, my eyes are pressed tightly together and I focus on fighting off my tears.

I don't hear her come in but the next thing I know I'm being gently guided down further onto my bed. My eyes peer open and I see Brittany looking down at me, tears forming in her eyes. I hate it when she cries.

Everything just seems so surreal in this moment. I want to comfort her, need to, but my vocal cords cease working. Using my eyes I try to convey some type of message to her but I don't think it works.

Closing them, I finally feel the first tear form. Fuck this. Why does he get to hold this power over me? I should hate him, he doesn't deserve a reaction from me. Bastard.

The bed dips next to me but I don't open my eyes. Her scent alone is enough to calm me and when she wraps her arm around me, pulling me closer to her body, I'm finally able to let it out.

Time seems nonexistent as I cry into her arms, harder than I ever remember crying in the past. I wish there were a way to make this all go away, to numb every single one of my senses, to force myself not to feel. My head is pounding hard, through my chest I can feel my heart beating quicker than normal, the crying making my breathing uneven. Everything is so screwed up, why can't things just go back to the way they were an hour ago? A month ago? Last year before all of this happened?

Shaking my head, I turn my body around to face my girlfriend. Maybe things are screwed up but at least she's here, holding me while my own brother has to get drunk to even be in my presence. Maybe it has caused some set backs but falling for Brittany isn't the worst thing that's ever happened to me, not even close, and I can't allow myself to view it as a burden. In reality, she may be the greatest thing in my life.

"Where's Rachel and donkey face?" I ask, my voice raw from crying. Looking up into her own eyes, I notice her slightly blotchy face from her own tears but she doesn't wipe them away. Instead she reaches down and traces her fingers across the outline of my face before wiping my cheeks.

"When you left you didn't look too good and then you barged back in, looking even worse. I knew something bad must have happened so I told them it would probably be best if they left," she explains, face full of concern. "That's why I wasn't in here right away. Don't worry about them right now."

"It was my brother," I tell her, the words tasting sour in my mouth. The title doesn't seem to fit that asshole anymore.

She pulls her closer to her, hugging me tighter, but she doesn't ask for answers. I love that about her, she lets me do things in my own time.

"I guess-I mean." God dammit, why is this so fucking hard? I close my eyes and bury my head into her shoulder. "My mom told him about us."

"Oh San." She runs her fingers through my hair.

"I knew this was going to happen it just," I pause to collect myself when I feel the tears coming back. "It just really fucking sucks right now."

Neither of us say anything. She places a gentle kiss on the top of my head and I try to move impossibly closer to her. Right now all I need is to be close to her. Lying there next to her, allowing her to fill every one of my senses, I somehow manage to find sleep.

As I drift off, my mind wanders to better thoughts, less stressful things. Details are blurred but in every single scene one thing remains the same, Brittany is next to me, holding onto my hand, and knowing she's there permits me relax into the dream. As long as she's by my side I know there is nothing I have to be afraid of.

…

Without the curtains on the window, the sun shines brightly into my bedroom the following morning, waking me up much earlier than I would have liked. Brittany's still wrapped around me tightly and that brings a smile to my face despite the early hour. Even though it may have been one of the most difficult, painful experiences of my life, I'm still able to smile after last night because of her. Somehow, she knows how to make everything better, easier, without even trying.

"Good morning," I jump slightly at her voice, not knowing she was awake.

Cuddling into her body further, I mumble "morning," into her arm before closing my eyes again. I'm not exceptionally tired right now but with me pressed against her like this, falling asleep, there is a much slighter chance she will try leaving this bed and all I want to do is spend the day with her, wrapped up in her arms, exactly like this.

"How did you sleep?" she asks, running her hand through my long hair gently.

Instinctively, I push up into her touch. "Surprisingly well," I tell her, still not opening my eyes. "Thank you for staying with me, I really needed that." She hums softly, hand still gliding through my hair. If I was still any bit worked up from last night this would definitely put me at ease.

A silence falls over the room, not an awkward one, just a silence. The sun still shines brightly upon us, soon illuminating the entire room. Time passes slowly but quickly all at the same time and, soon, I'm drifting off to sleep again. Then I feel it, her hand stops moving and I chance a glace up at her. From the look on her face I can tell just how hard she's thinking.

"Where's your head right now?" I ask, placing my hand gently on her stomach.

Expecting a lighthearted giggle or smile, I'm surprised when she sits up in the bed, a serious, almost worried look, crossing over her face. "I know it's probably not the best time but I'm not very good at keeping secrets and I don't like not telling you things so there's something I have to tell you," she blurts out and I can't help but feel slightly worried about where this is going.

"You're brother- when we were at your parents' house- you were with your mom and-"

Any other time I would have smiled at her, finding it cute how she gets so excited sometimes that her words all start mashing together as one. But this isn't another time, this is now and she's being serious about this. Instead of a smile I feel my stomach drop.

"Whoa, calm down Britt," I say, sitting up next to her.

Her hands fine mine and she holds onto them tightly. Shit, now she's really scaring me. Her palms feel sweaty in mine and I rub my thumb over the back of her hand gently, trying to calm her down so she can find the right words to say whatever it is she's struggling with.

"Sorry," she finally says, pulling me out of my own running thoughts, "I know you're probably freaking out right now but you really don't have to." It's fucking creepy how well she can read me. "It's just what I say is probably going to upset you and I don't want you to be angry. You remind me of high school Santana when you're angry, do things like this," she gestures to the destroyed room, "and it just scares me a little bit. I need you to promise you won't get too upset over this."

Like every other time we've made a promise to each other, she sticks her pinky out and I wrap mine around it securely. As I tighten my grip, I look into her eyes, trying to figure out what the hell it is she wants to tell me. The distraught look on her face mixed with the fact that this has something to do with my ass of a brother causes my grip to tighten even further, hope that I can manage to keep this promise to her, that she's only being so dramatic because of her prolonged friendship with Rachel, the only thing I can think of.

"I know your brother has a problem with me," she states, keeping her eyes locked on mine as though she is trying to judge my reaction. "He's always had a problem with me, all through school as you know."

A feeling of anger and shame passes over me simultaneously and my head lazily nods in lieu of a proper response. My past has really started coming back to bite me in the ass lately and I absolutely hate it. I was such a fucking idiot for being the way I was and letting Toni have such an influence over me. He is my older brother, I looked up to him. I watched him as he made his way to the top, taking out the people below him and all I wanted was to be just like him.

I can't help but wonder if I might have come to terms with this part of myself earlier had it not been for him.

"He's an ass Britt, I know that," I tell her, hoping she's not blaming herself for what happened last night. "He hates me just as much as he hates you right now, none of this is your fault."

"He doesn't hate you, he's your brother," she smiles as though it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I think he just hates the situation, maybe. Like, he's just really angry about it and he needed to take it out on you so he could start to get over it. He's probably feeling terrible about last night, about whatever he said to you."

"I won't hold my breath waiting for an apology," I scoff. I'm still not so sure why she brought this up. If she wanted to know about the call she could have just asked.

"While we were in Lima, he and I, we had this conversation," she begins and I immediately feel my body go cold. This can't be good. "Well, I didn't really say much but yeah, he wanted to talk to me. He told me that I needed to stay away from you and if I knew what was best for me then I wouldn't go back to Lima with you anymore. I also think he said something about me moving out but he was scaring me a bit so I tried zoning him out and thinking of other things."

"He fucking threatened you? Why didn't you tell be about this?" Fuck staying calm about this, how can she expect me not to get upset?

I jump off the bed, frantically searching for my phone in the and spot it lying on the floor, the back and battery a few feet away. He needs to hear what I have to say and no quiet, weak Santana from last night will be making an appearance. When I reach for it however, Brittany grabs my hand to stop me and swipes the pieces into her other hand.

"This is why I didn't tell you, you get worked up about things that don't matter. I'm fine, nothing happened. He's just protective of his little sister, he saw me as someone who could mess things up for you. He didn't mean to be mean."

"Give me the damn phone Britt," I say sternly, extending my hand out to her. She doesn't know him like I do, she doesn't know what he's capable of. If this doesn't get taken care of now, things will only get worse.

"Nope," she retorts, making a popping sound with her lips on the 'p'.

"Fucking give it to me right now." My voice is getting louder but I don't care. I'm about 2 seconds from completely blowing up in her face and, though it's the last thing I want to do, I know it's going to happen if she doesn't hand me the phone.

"You promised you wouldn't get mad, you pinky promised." She sounds upset and completely distraught but I am far too frustrated to even care. I feel the anger boil inside of me until it's too much, it's needs to get out.

"For fuck's sake give it to me. This is not a joke Britt, this is a big deal. You may see everything through these rainbow colored glasses that help you find the best in everyone but that is not the real world. At some point you are going to have to realize that. Just grow up and stop being so goddamn naïve!"

I don't think I've ever been in a room where the volume changed so drastically, so quickly. My words hang in the air but neither of us say a single thing. We don't move either and it seems as though the world around us has slowed.

I don't know about Brittany, but I wouldn't be able to come up with anything if my life depended on it.

Brittany look so horrified, completely shocked by my words. She tries hiding it but it only makes her look more crestfallen than before. My initial reaction is to reach out and take her into my arms but I can't do that now. Not now that I'm the one who hurt her.

"Britt," I say almost breathlessly.

I don't know what it is I want to say next but it doesn't matter. At the sound of my voice, it's as though something inside of her clicks into place and her back immediately straightens and her face glasses over.

"You don't have to apologize, Santana," she says, trying hard to make the words sound believable. Instead of looking up at me, she focuses her attention instead on the phone in her hand. "If anything, I should be the one to so I'm sorry. I know you have a lot going on with your brother and I shouldn't have put you in that situation."

My head cocks to the side, her cold tone foreign on my ears, and I try to come up with something to say. At this point, I would almost rather her yell at me than this. At least then I would know how she truly feels, whereas now all I know is that she's hiding from me.

"Here," Brittany says, handing me the now put together phone.

I notice a giant crack down the screen which must have happened when I smashed it against the wall. Tentatively, I take it into my hand and stare at the top of her head, hoping she will somehow sense my eyes on her and look up to meet them.

She doesn't.

"You can call your brother if you want, it's your decision. Just know that everything isn't as bad as you're making it out to be. The both of you are probably still on edge right now so if you choose to call, make sure you prepare yourself for that."

With those words, she turns on her heals and begins making her way to the door. I'm able to call her name again before she leave but she just turns to face me, a half assed attempt of a smile on her face.

"I have class in an hour, I really need to get ready."

That's all she says before I'm left alone in my mess of a room.

…

Things go back to normal after that. Well, if you consider going through the motions of an average day without actually processing anything as it happens as normal, then I suppose you could consider things normal.

It's now Friday, an entire three days have passed, and I still feel just as sick to my stomach every time I see Brittany. I can't figure out for certain if she's still upset at me but my outburst definitely changed things around here.

Though I've tried breaching the subject, albeit will much hesitance, every time she just flashes me an almost perfected fake smile and forces the conversation in a new direction. Whether or not she's still mad at me, I'm positive she's hurt my what I said, I could see that the second I let the words slip out of my mouth, but she would never tell me as much. I'm the person who is supposed to love her, to protect her from getting hurt, and it turned out that I was the one who inflicted the most damage. If it were someone else who dared say to her the likes of what I did, I would have no problem with kicking their ass. I'm sure there are plenty of people who would like to kick mine by now.

I also think I may have embarrassed her. She trusts me and I completely went against her and brought something I knew she was sensitive about into the argument. Maybe, because I said it, I made her believe it was true.

God, I hope that's not true.

These thoughts, the ones that make me cringe, are typical of those I've been having ever since our argument and they're not getting any easier to deal with. It's not Brittany's fault my any means, I know that, but I just wish she would talk with me about it so I could get some of them off my chest. Not to relieve my own guilt, everyone knows I deserve that and more, but to be able to start fixing things with her. I need to know how I can fix it.

It's those same thoughts that have had me reaching for the phone on numerous occasions this week, then pulling back. If I were to call Quinn, there is no doubt in my mind that she would be able to help me as much as she possibly could. Hell, if I asked I'm sure she would be on the first train out here.

But this is my problem, and to call my best friend to do damage control would be the ultimate cop out.

"I was thinking maybe we could stay in tonight," I suggest to Brittany who is sitting on the chair across from me, hair still pulled back tightly in a bun from when she was at work. "We could watch some movies, snuggle up in bed. It's been a while since we got the chance to hang out."

It's not a lie, and it's also not just because of this weird funk we're caught in. School has been doing a number on both of our asses and, aside from dinner with Rachel and Brody, we've barely had the chance to eat a meal together since Valentine's. Maybe a nice, quiet night could be exactly what we need.

"Sure," Brittany agrees, nodding her head. "Can we watch them out here though? We never watch the T.V. out here and it probably feels a little neglected."

A smile is pulling at the edges of my mouth when the realization hits me. She doesn't want to be in a bed alone with me.

"Yeah," I chime, trying to keep my spirits up, "whatever you want. You can go get changed and I'll grab a blanket."

A few minutes later, Brittany reemerges in her pajamas, her own blanket in hand. I focus my attention on the dvd player to hide my disappointment and quickly get the movie to start playing.

It's funny to think that this couch is where everything started for us. This is the same couch we had our first kiss on, the same one on which I asked her out on a date, as well as asked her to be my girlfriend. All of theses pivotal moments of our relationship have happened on this piece of furniture and never did I expect sitting next to Brittany on it to be uncomfortable.

The movie plays on in the background, every detail going completely over my head as my thoughts overpower my ability to focus. After what I assume to be about a half hour into it, I chance a glance at Brittany to see her eyes glued to the screen in front of us. The light shines on her face, illumination her beautiful features, and I smile.

Something funny must happen next because the corner of her mouth lifts and a light chuckle falls from her lips.

She is stunning.

Maybe all these problems are inside my head. Maybe I'm the one who's making this out to be a much bigger deal than it truly is and Brittany isn't even mad at me. Maybe she wanted to have movie night out here because it's a change from our normal routine and she wanted her own blanket because the apartment has been slightly chillier over these past few weeks.

Maybe nothing is actually wrong.

Deciding I need to do something, anything, I shift closer to Brittany. Her eyes don't leave the screen at my movement so I move a little closer until our arms are touching and then I lean sideways. This is how we watch movies, it's been this way ever since our first date. Brittany sits on the right, me on the left, as much of our bodies touching as possible in the position. My head always rests on her shoulder, unless she beats me to it.

When my head nestles onto her, I feel her stiffen but she quickly catches herself and relaxes. Ignoring it the best I can, I try to turn my attention to the movie.

...

It lasts two whole scenes before Brittany taps my head, signaling for me to take it off of it's resting place. She stretches her arms high above her head and I look at her curiously. Without a word, she's on her feet and gathering the blanket into her arms.

"I'm exhausted so I think I'm going to head to bed," she explains, looking at me as though she's waiting for my permission.

Unsure of anything else to say, I stand to give her a quick kiss goodnight before pulling her in for a hug. Her arms are holding her blanket so they don't wrap around me, but I make sure to hold her for an extra second or two.

With a quick peck on the cheek, she's gone and I'm left alone in the empty living room.

The movie is still playing so I grab the remote to shut it off. It's not like I was watching it in the first place, no point in sticking around if my only reason for staying has left. Something she has never done before. She really hates not knowing the ending regardless of how terrible the whole thing is.

I walk back to my bedroom alone. Defeated.

Since coming home from Lima, Brittany and I have been spending a lot more time in the same bed. Not even having sex, though that does happen quite frequently if either of us have any say in the matter. If we have sex, sharing a bed is a definite because we both get way to caught up in each other to even consider moving, not to mention how exhausted we are. Other nights throughout the school week are kind of a toss up. If neither of us are too loaded down with homework and if Brittany has the night off, we tend to sleep in the same bed simply because we're usually hanging out in one of our rooms anyway. Then there are the nights when she sneaks into my room after I've fallen asleep, sometimes when she gets back from a late shift, other times in the middle of the night just because she missed me, or so she claims. I really like waking up next to her when I don't expect it.

Weekends, however, are definite. In the two months we've been official, there hasn't been a single Friday or Saturday night we've been apart. Even if we don't hang out before, if she's out with Rachel or if I play catch up at the library, we always manage to crawl into bed next to one another.

Maybe she forgot.

* * *

**A/N: **There is a high possibility that I completely spammed your inbox if you have this story on alert so I apologize for that. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't getting an alert telling me this chapter was uploaded so I kept messing around with it. Then I read the front page and it said check the spam folder and there they were. So if you're having problems with alerts apparently marking them as not spam is a fix, for now at least. Sorry again!


	18. Chapter 16

**A/N:** To all my Canadian readers out there, I hope you had a wonderful thanksgiving weekend. To the rest of you, hope you're having a good day/night depending on where you are. And to all of you, please don't hate me for this chapter! At least it's a long one.

* * *

_Meet me at my apartment. 5:30._

Quickly, I press my finger to the screen to send the message. It's not exactly the type of message you would typically send someone whose help you need, but that's just how Berry and I work. If she were to get a sweet, mushy message, she would be much less inclined to go along with it.

_It's impossible to ignore your charm, you know that. See you then. _

What did I tell you?

…

"While I'm never opposed to spending quality time with any of my friends, I have to admit that this get together seems quite out of the blue."

Rachel is sat at one side of the kitchen table, Brittany's side, holding a mug of some new type of tea she's current hooked on. I have no idea what it's called, though I really should considering the 10 minute explanation she gave me as she prepared it, but I really wasn't in the mood to listen. I didn't call her here to discuss her current habits in regards to sustenance, I called because I'm finally able to admit I need her help. Not that she would know that as she hasn't stopped talking since she walked through the door.

"I know we haven't spoken much since Christmas so it's understandable if you..." The words keep slipping out of Rachel's mouth and I shoot her a look. Her bottom lip hangs open for a few seconds before she snaps it shut, quickly regaining her footing.

Rachel makes everything seem so much more dramatic than it actually is. Though I've really grown to love Rachel, that is the one thing about her I don't ever think I'll be able to get used to. Being around her just makes me look at everything from a much more dramatic angle. It's probably not the best thing for my sanity. Knowing that, it kind of makes me wish she wasn't the only person I could discuss this with.

"Though I hate to admit it out loud, I think I screwed up," I tell her, not wasting any time. Sighing, I pull out the other chair to take a seat. Instead of responding, Rachel's head just cocks to the side as though I've recited a calculus problem, or something equally as tedious. "With Britt," I add.

"What makes you think that?" she asks, actually looking slightly concerned. "Brittany hasn't mentioned anything to me. What happened? I mean, she visited just yesterday and didn't even hint that you were having any problems."

"Cool it with the questions. I'll tell you everything, just let me speak," I tell her and she brings her hand to her mouth, pulling her finger across her lips as though she's zipping them shut. I have to laugh.

"We had an argument a few days back," I start, "when you and donkey face were over." I can practically hear her scolding me for the nickname so I bring my hand to the air to silence her. For once, I just need her to listen. "My brother showed up so I snuck out, not even explaining to Britt what was going on. He was drunk and being an ass and, long story short, he basically disowned me for being in a relationship with another woman."

Even though I've stopped talking, Rachel hasn't bothered voicing her opinion on the matter. Instead, she just sits there looking at me, as though I didn't fucking tell her that so she could help me out a bit. My knees jump wildly beneath the table and I have to press my hands to them to get them to stop. They only ever do that when I'm nervous.

"I told Brittany when you guys left and she stayed the night with me in my room," I explain further, conveniently leaving out the part where I cried like a baby for hours. "The next morning, we got to talking, which lead to a fight."

For someone who's shit at talking about emotions and feelings and all of that crap, it feels as though I just spewed my soul out yet she's still looking at me as though she's waiting for more. I don't even know what else I can say.

"At first, I wasn't really sure if anything was wrong, I thought my mind might have been making it up, but something is definitely up. Brittany's just been so distant lately."

Rachel's lips press tightly together, eyes squinting, as though she's trying to concentrate. This could really go all of two way but at least she isn't yelling at me. At least, not yet.

"First of all," she starts, leaning forward to place her intertwined hands on the table, "I'd like to voice my apology on behalf of your brother. Though I don't know him personally, I know you and I can say with much confidence that he is the one missing out."

I have to duck my head to hide the red-ish tint that covers my cheeks at the compliment.

"Do you think he is going to come around?" she asks with much uncertainty.

Tears begin forming in the corners of my eyes and I shut them tightly, not allowing them to fall. In response to her question, I shake my head in disagreement, so much confidence in my answer it hurts. Somehow, I need to force myself to realize he isn't worth this pain.

"I would say you are better off then," Rachel chimes, ignoring my obviously distraught appearance. "My daddy, his family left him to his own devices when he came out to them. He hadn't even finished high school yet but they literally threw him to the curb with the clothes on his back, simply because he didn't fit into the norm for his family. It may seem like things are particularly horrible right now, and I am in no way insinuating that your sadness is disputable because others have it worse, that would be ridiculous, but just know that you have people in your life who support you and love you for exactly who you are. Don't bother focusing so much on those who don't feel that way, they'll only bring you down."

The way she explains it, with so much sincerity, there is no way I couldn't believe her. I completely missed the part where Rachel became the advice giving guru but she's right though. Sure, my brother left me but I can't let that break me, I can't let his rejection outweigh the support I've gotten because there is no competition. I offer her a warm smile in appreciation, knowing she is one of those people who has my back.

"I also have to admit that I've noticed a change in Brittany," she adds, her voice sounding a little sad. "She mentioned a few things she has going on right now and I just think she's overwhelmed. As I've told you, she hasn't said a word to me regarding you, not that I know for certain it has nothing to do with you, for all I know she could be lying to me, but there are definitely other factors involved."

"What do these factors include?" I ask. I don't want to sound harsh, not after how nice she's being to me, but I really don't want to skirt around this conversation any longer.

"It's really not my place-"

"Look Rachel," I cut her off. Standing from the chair, I move closer to her until our knees are basically touching. "You're her best friend, I know that and I respect that. But something is going on with Brittany, something I'm almost certain has to do with me, so if you have anything that could help me out, even in the slightest, I would really appreciate it."

_I can't lose her. _

The unspoken words hang heavily in the air, neither of us mentioning them but both aware of their presence. Rachel's face softens.

Sometimes I forget that Rachel and I weren't close in high school. Moments like this, when she gives me a look like right now, that's when I'm reminded that she hasn't gotten to see this side of me very often. She's used to the head bitch with the fake smile and razor sharp words. When she sees me like this, pitiful, desperate, the surprised look on her face is always so genuine, like even after these past few months, after all we've been through, she still has a hard time seeing that I'm not the same person I was in high school. Maybe I was never really that person to begin with.

Either for that reason, or out of pity, she finally gives in.

"She has this competition, dance, that one of her professors entered her in," she whispers, craning her neck towards me.

I get caught up in her words, playing them back through my mind, before I realize how awkward of a position we're in. I didn't mean to intimidate her, to make her feel uncomfortable. With a slight nod of my head, I wrap my arms around my body and take a few steps back.

Why wouldn't Brittany tell me about something like that? Ever since school started, Brittany has always been very vocal about her dancing, mostly due to the fact that she has a hard time keeping anything exciting to herself. When she would speak, I'd remain completely captivated by her voice, by her passion, and I always made a point to praise her for it. Dance is what she loves, what she's passionate about, and she deserves to know someone is proud of her. I feel like that's something she's been lacking in her life.

Never did I have anything negative to say about it, not one single thing, so why is it she would rather keep this information from me? It also doesn't make sense why a competition would make her distance herself from me, something just isn't adding up.

"There's more, what else do you know?"

"I, um," Rachel mumbles, trying to find someway to not piss me off. "Her mother. Since our Lima visit, Brittany has been overcome with this horrid idea of contacting her mother."

That could potentially be a better explanation.

I'm pacing back and fourth across the floor now as I listen to Rachel. When I asked Rachel if she would come over, my intention was always to figure out answers that would allow me to help Brittany, but never did I expect there to be so much I was completely in the dark about. Truthfully, I almost wish I never asked the question in the first place.

"Did she, did she reach her?" My words come out slow, tentative, but I force myself to keep my steps in time and not to falter. The second I stop, there is a high chance my mind just might implode.

"No," Rachel answers, sadness entering her voice again. "She hasn't been able to get a hold of her because the house line has been shut off. She's been driving herself crazy trying to find another way to contact her, calling old friends, local businesses. Just yesterday I had to convince her not to call the authorities when my fathers refused to give her any information. They're extremely protective of Brittany and they know this is what's best for her, she's just not really in her right mind when she gets worked up about it."

_Fuck, Brittany. _Why didn't she tell me any of this? Her relationship with her mother ended so suddenly and on terrible terms, I understand why she might need some closure, but she should really have spoken with me about it. This is the woman who flat out attacked her, who left her to her own devices for years but then the second she decided to do something for herself, she went ape shit.

I don't know if I'm relieved to hear she didn't manage to make contact or not.

"You need to tell her whatever it is you know," I state, my demeanor becoming more cold. "You told me a few weeks back that you knew some things, things about Brittany's mother that you couldn't tell me or her because it wasn't the right time. I have no fucking clue what that was supposed to mean but if there was ever a right time, now would be it!"

It comes out sounding harsh but Rachel doesn't even flinch, instead she slouches in her chair and a defeated look crosses her face.

Then it hits me.

The bags under her eyes, the worry in her voice. I realize for the first time how hard this must be on Rachel, what type of toll it must be taking on her. Unlike me, who had no idea what was going on with Brittany back in high school, Rachel was there to witness it all. She was there when her sister died, when her father left. Hell, she was there to witness her own father pulling Brittany's mother off of her beaten body. If anyone wants to help Brittany more than I do, it's her. Her best friend.

I lean down until I'm at her level and pull her in for a hug. It's unusual for us, more so for me to be the one initiating it, but we both need the contact right now. "Sorry for getting upset," I apologize, and it doesn't even kill me to do so. "This is not your fault and I know you want to help her just as much as me."

"I do," Rachel agrees and I feel her head nod on my shoulder. "Brittany likes to be independent, that's how she was raised. Now that she actually needs help, she doesn't know how to ask for it."

Pulling back, I offer Rachel a smile in acknowledgement. "Do you think she's going to give up?"

"No," she laughs, lightening the mood. "Have you met Brittany? She's the most persistent person on the planet. When it comes to those she loves, failing isn't an option."

Rachel's words are completely true. Brittany is loyal and trustworthy, so much so that it's almost detrimental to her own happiness. She puts everyone else before herself, regardless if it's the best option for her personally.

This time it has to be different. This time, Brittany needs someone who is willing to put her needs before their own, who is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure she is okay. Between me and Rachel, I really hope one of us are able to get through to her.

…

I feel somewhat lighter after my conversation with Rachel, as though my eyes have been opened and I'm beginning to see things more clearly. There may even be a slight pep in my step as I make my way home from the grocery store the next day and I don't even try to control it.

After Rachel left, it got me to thinking. Yes, Brittany is stressed and she has a lot on her plate right now, a perfectly good reason for her to be acting slightly out of character. That being said, she's probably still a little upset at what I said, even though no apology has made it from my lips to her ears because she'll have none of it.

So instead I decided to do something a little different, something to let her know just how completely in love with her I am, as well as how truly sorry and horrible I feel for being a bitch to her. A nice romantic, homemade dinner courtesy of yours truly.

Not a bad reason to have a pep in my step, right?

"Britt-Britt, you home?" I call into the apartment.

Hearing no response, I move to the kitchen to lay the few grocery bags down on the table. Then I hear it. It's not loud, just enough to reach my ears and cause my heart to flutter. The sound of the running shower almost drowns it out, but the faint sound of Brittany's singing can be heard fluttering through the bathroom door and I'm immediately drawn to it.

Abandoning the food, I decide to do something I wouldn't typically. Light on my feet, I quickly make my way towards the bathroom door and turn the handle as quietly as possible. Thank god Brittany never locks it.

The heat hits me immediately, rushing over my body and filling my lungs. It isn't the heat that takes my breath away though. That would be the cause of Brittany's silhouette, smooth and naked and dark against the light blue shower curtain. My breath immediately hitches at the sight and, only after a few seconds of staring, am I able to pull my eyes away and get back to the task at hand.

Not that it's really much of a task at all.

Shower sex was something I had never even considered until Brittany. The whole thing really, the running water, the slippery floor, the soap. It all just sounded like such a hazard and, forgive me for sounding like Berry, but I really didn't want to die and have someone find me in such a compromising composition. I would be cringing from my grave. But then Brittany came along and made me realize how amazing it could be, and amazing it was and continues to be.

That was until recently. With our busy schedules, we barely had time enough to cuddle, let alone maintain enough energy to have sex. Since Valentine's we haven't found one moment where we both had a clear schedule paired with the ability to keep our eyes open.

I know I'm not any type of expert on the subject, but I'm pretty sure dry spells aren't typically supposed to happen this early in a relationship.

Carefully, I slide my pants and underwear down my legs, heat building in my stomach at the thought of what's to come, before lifting my shirt above my head. Standing there in only my bra, my beautiful girlfriend mere feet away, I give myself a quick look in the fogged up mirror before moving my hands behind my back to rid myself of my last article of clothing. It's only then I notice she's stopped singing.

"Britt?" I call loud enough for her to hear me over the water.

"Hey," Brittany replies, "where were you? I came home and you weren't around."

_Was she hoping I'd be home?_

"I had some things I had to do," I explain, moving closer to the curtain with every word. "How was your day?"

"Good, you know. Lots of-"

Her words get cut off the second I pull the curtain over, just enough to reveal my very naked body to her. I watch her as her eyes run up and down my figure before she realizes how blatantly obvious she's being and refocuses her gaze on the tap.

"Mind if I join you?"

I say it in the most seductive voice I can muster, trying to garner another similar reaction, and it works better than expected. Her eyes dark up to meet mine and she nods, the slightest appearance of a smile on her face.

Using her shoulder to balance myself, I lift my feet over the lip of the tub to get situated under the hot stream of water. As it runs over my body, heating my still slightly chilled limbs, it's almost enough of a distraction to prevent me from noticing the tingling feeling in my hand. Almost.

"I've missed you," I tell her honestly, trying to get her to look at me instead of the bottle of shampoo that seems to have become the most interesting thing on the planet.

Brittany doesn't get nervous about sex, it just doesn't happen. I know it's horrible to make assumptions like that about people, to assume that just because they like sex or are complete sex-goddesses, like my girlfriend, but I know for a fact that it's true with Brittany. Especially when it comes to me.

For Brittany, getting to be with me like that is something that comes so naturally to her that I can't even begin to describe it. The way she moves, the confidence she exuberates, it's unlike anything I've ever seen and it should definitely make me feel completely out of my element. But for some reason, it doesn't, and being with her only makes me feel much more comfortable with my own abilities.

Oddly, I'm the one looking more bold in this moment and her guarded features are causing every bit of confidence I had just seconds ago to disappear.

"You too," Brittany finally replies, moving a little closer so the water is hitting her again.

Her arm brushes against mine.

Why is this so awkward?

"You're night is free, right?" I ask, not wanting things to be weird.

Shifting, I move myself until I'm standing directly in front of her. Now she only has three choices. She can look up at the ceiling, which is much too obvious, she can look down towards her feet, but that would only make it seem like she's checking me out, or she can look me in the eyes.

She chooses the third option.

"Yes," she nods.

Not exactly the response I was looking for but I'll definitely take it, especially considering the look she has in her eyes right now.

We're still in our heated staring match when I snake my arms around her back, feeling the water falling from her hair run over them, and her arms quickly find purchase on my hips. I don't know who makes the move but, before I know, it our lips are crashing together in one of the best kisses I've every experienced.

In reality, it's only been a few days since we've kissed like this but it feels like it's been so much longer. When you go from kissing someone every day on more than one occasion to getting a quick peck on the cheek every now and then, it can make the smallest amount of time seem endless. Regardless, my lips meet hers with as much passion as ever, molding together as though there was never a time during which they were separated.

"I love you so much," I mutter under my breath as our lips part for the shortest of moments before finding each other again.

From my hips, I feel her right hand move gently up my side, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin despite the warmth of the water. Finger tips graze the side of my breast, not paying it the type of attention I so desperately want, but continue up my body until they're running through my wet hair.

Feeling my confidence build, I move my hands from behind her back to place them on her shoulders, guiding her back until she's against the wall. Brittany hits hard, the wall being much closer than I expected, but it doesn't stop the moan from escaping her lips as our bodies press together.

Taking advantage of her weakened moment, I press my lips to the side of her neck. Quick pecks at first, my tongue darting out to run over the soft skin, the intoxicating smell of her vanilla body wash invading my nose.

"San," Brittany whines as I feel her grow unsteady against the wall.

Using one hand, I try to steady her on her feet, not letting my mouth leave her body, while I bring the other one down her front to trace gentle patterns over the defined muscles of her toned stomach. They tighten at my touch.

I feel her body shiver against mine and I have to suppress a moan. Regardless of how right, how incredible it feels to be like this with her again, I still feel as though I need to be careful. Like, the smallest slip up on my part could send everything into a spiral, making matters even worse.

Brittany removes the hand in my hair to place it under my chin, raising it so it's level with hers before crashing our lips together once again. This kiss feels slightly different than the previous ones, as though it isn't without a purpose. Her tongue quickly finds it's way into my mouth with much skill, and my hands tighten on her body as I'm now the one at risk of falling.

Her thumb rubs small circles over the skin of my cheek, while the other mirrors its actions on my hip, and I'm not sure how long more either of us can take this foreplay. Usually, we can spread this over hours, taking our time to get each other worked up, multiple times, before actually moving any further, but the wetness between my legs that happens to be completely unrelated to the shower is letting me know that isn't going to be the case right now.

Brittany breaks the kiss for a few seconds and I take in a deep breath before running my hand that's still resting on her abs down further. Tantalizingly slow, I move it down her front. I press our lips together, throwing everything I have into that kiss, before cupping her gently.

She's fucking soaked.

"Britt-Britt," I moan through the kiss, pressing my middle finger harder against her and running in through her wet folds.

Lips move against mine, hips press down in search of more friction. Matching every other time we've been together, my senses become completely invaded by her and I have to force myself to stay focus. How easy would it be to get lost in the sound of her short breaths or the feeling of her perfect lips upon mine.

With ease am I able to find her swollen clit, and I circle it a few times before moving my fingers lower. She throws her head back, hitting it against the wall, but the look on her face isn't one of pain at all. Between her teeth, she has her bottom lip held tightly and I can't look away, trying to commit the sight before me to memory.

With a quick peck to her neck, I slide a single finger inside of her. Her muscles are already beginning to spasm at the intrusion and that only eggs me on. Pulling out, I thrust in this time with an added second finger and get completely lost in the sensation. My fingers are covered in her juices and, with every thrust, the liquid runs further and further down my hand.

Incredible, overwhelming, addicting. That's the only way to describe this feeling, the only way to describe Brittany.

Needing more contact, I look upwards in search of her face. Kissing those lips of her would only be icing of this cake, making it all the much sweeter.

But then my smile falters. The look on her face doesn't match the overjoyed feeling I'm currently experiencing. Instead, it just looks frozen. Scared almost.

I'm sure my confusion shows all over my face but she doesn't seem to notice, her expression doesn't alter in the slightest, and I'm at a loss for what the hell is going on. Instead of pulling my fingers out, detaching myself from her completely, I instead slow my pace and look into her eyes.

This is Brittany, the same girl who can have a million expressions in the span of a minute when talking about anything, from a particular television show to a new dance routine she learned in class. She is a person of many emotions and, over the past few months, I've become very well versed in reading them all. For example, when she's sad, her lower lips pouts out slightly, which is much different than the pout she gives when she wants me to give into her. There is also this thing she does with her lip when ever she's happy, the right side tilts up slightly while the left stays still. Times when we sleep together, have slow, drawn out sex filled hours, that's when I get to see all of her reactions. The way all of her muscles seem to tighten just before she orgasms, or the way she reaches for my hand whenever possible.

Never has she looked like this.

Her eyes look into mine and I can tell something is wrong. We may be in the shower, but the sight of water gathering in them has nothing to do with that, and it breaks my heart. I just want to know what the fucking hell is going on with her. It absolutely kills me to see her like this.

In an attempt to comfort her, I use my free hand to cup her cheek and I push our bodies flesh to each other. Then, our lips.

It's a tender kiss, lips barely moving, but all that matter is the fact that hers are moving. For a minute, maybe two, maybe more, our lips move slowly against one another's and I have to force my own tears to stay at bay. I can't help but feel like this is a make or break moment for us.

"W-we should stop," Brittany breathes out, pulling back from our kiss.

Giving her a dazed look, I move in to reattach our lips and it's then the she gives me a push off of her. It's not hard, barely enough to move me at all, but she still pushed me away.

"Sorry."

Suddenly, a feeling of shame passes over me as I start thinking about the whole thing. She was enjoying it, right? There was no way I made that up in my head. I kissed her and she kissed me, we were both completely into it. So why did she stop? And why didn't I listen?

My fingers slip out of her and her facial expression only falters for a split second.

"It's okay," Brittany responds as though she can read my mind. "I've just had a really long day and my muscles are killing me. Some warm soup and a bed is what I really need right now."

Everything she's saying is lies, I know that, she knows that, and I'd be willing to bet she's aware of the fact I know. You don't have a moment like we just had and then blame it all on being tired. Her body language is more of a confession than her words but I let it slide. I let it slide because that was the closest I've felt to her in a while and saying anything now would only tarnish the memory.

"Yeah, no problem," I say, trying not to let my disappointment show. "You have a competition or something coming up, right?"

Brittany's out of the shower now, a towel wrapped tightly around her body, but her head shoots up at my words. "How do you know that?"

"Rachel," I answer honestly.

"Oh."

Suddenly, I feel much too under dressed and cross my arms in an attempt to hide myself, which is ridiculous considering what we were just doing.

"We had coffee the other day and she mentioned something about it. I'd like to come watch."

"Yeah?" she asks and I nod enthusiastically. She doesn't exactly seem to be sharing my excitement right now. "It's not until May but I'll make sure to get you a ticket."

"Awesome," I smile, "and I understand if you just want to grab some soup from a tin and head to bed but I was thinking maybe I could cook tonight? I bought some things at the store and I'm sure there's enough to make a decent soup. You could go get ready for bed while I make it, if you want?"

She seems to think about it for a minute before nodding in agreement, offering me a small smile before heading out of the room.

Leaning back against the wall, I let the stream of water cascade over my face. I've always been one to keep my emotions within arms reach. Others are also something I kept close. When things are close to you, you have more control over them, you get to understand them better and be able to find any cracks. Now Brittany is pulling away and I'm losing those abilities. I don't know what she's thinking anymore, I don't know why she doesn't want me around.

Running my hand through my soaked hair, I step out of the tub without even washing myself. That was never the point of getting in, in the first place. My head is still spinning a million miles a minute from the encounter, searching for some sort of answer, as I wrap a spare towel around my body.

I really need to talk to Brittany.

…

Sitting in my English lecture a few days later, that night's dinner is the only thing I can focus on.

As much as I hoped they would, I think a part of me knew things wouldn't go back to the way they were after one lousy meal together. I mean, yes we both ate at the same table, but it was as though I was eating alone for the amount of input Brittany offered to the conversation. At first, I tried talking to her, asking questions about work and school, anything I could think of really. But her answers were cold and short, as though I was forcing them out of her, so I eventually gave up. Talking to her isn't the hard part apparently, getting her to open up to me is.

We also haven't spoken a word about what happened in the shower. The weight of the conversation just hangs over our heads but neither of us are willing to bring it up.

Things are much more awkward because of it.

Before, it seemed as though Brittany was being overly cautious with me but now it's as though she's avoiding me completely. If I know Brittany as well as I believe to, which is pretty fucking well, I'm willing to bet it's because of what happened in that shower. If she really has been trying to put a halt to things between us, now she knows there is no chance of that happening if we're in closed quarters.

That wasn't my intention at all. For me, sneaking into that shower was an attempt to get things back to the way they were, to try and get that playful, carefree feeling back to our relationship. I didn't mean to make her feel ambushed or overwhelmed.

On the bright side, at least now I know she's still attracted to me. Physically, anyways.

Physical attraction, however, counts for shit all when it's the last thing I want to matter in our relationship and the extended periods of avoidance, matched with the awkward silences and short answers, has all become far too much for me to bare.

When my class ends, I cannot physically bring myself to go back to the apartment, back to being given the silent treatment, so I decide to head to the school's library instead. I know I gave Quinn a hard time in high school for being so dedicated to her schoolwork but with all the shit she had thrown at her, I can understand. The hard work proves to be the perfect distraction. I'm further ahead in my classes now than I ever was in high school which is both depressing and pathetic.

The silence of the large room always surprises me. Even though there are probably 100 or so people here, the loudest noise is the sound of the heater kicking in or the scatter cough. It's eerie but also relaxing in a way I wouldn't be able to explain.

Quickly, I find an empty table near a window and move to claim it as my own. On the way, I notice a small piece of paper placed on the corner of each table and, after taking I seat, I lean over to read what it says only to feel like I've been punched in the stomach. Turns out it's for a fucking pride group or something and, as quickly as I can recompose myself, I slide back on my chair and pull a few books from my bag.

Page after page, my eyes skim over the words but it's as thought I'm not even reading them at all. With my mind still on the damn piece of paper, I can't bring myself to focus on what I'm reading or even understand it at all. Against my will, my eyes keep averting back to the thing which just lies there, mocking me, and after an hour or so I can no longer fight the urge and finally pick it up to read completely through it.

Unlike the words of Freud and Jung, these words seer into my brain. Permanently taking up residence, even though I know they are of no use to me.

I don't know much about these things but from the sheet I learn that everyone is welcome and it's awesome. I highly doubt that but I stuff it into my pocket regardless. Brittany told me she was a part of the one back at McKinley so maybe if I showed interest in this it would be a way to get a conversation going.

I'm fucking desperate, I know. I just want he to know I'm making an effort here.

…

The door is black.

I hit the button on my phone to brighten the screen.

This is the right time.

The number next to the door the same as is printed on the slip of paper I found on the desk yesterday. The same slip of paper I've read over countless times, the one that has been unfolded and refolded so much I'm certain it will rip the next time.

I read it over one final time before shoving it back into my pocket and raising my hand to the doorknob. I can do this.

Today is apparently an opening up day, if the banner hanging from the front wall is any indication, and there is another banner welcoming all new people. Maybe someone other than me decided to read one of those slips and take a chance.

That doesn't really make me feel any better and I feel my chest tighten as I walk up to the rows of chairs.

In contrast to what I expected, there is no giant rainbow flag hanging around or groups of extremely flamboyant people like Kurt. I mean, there are a few slightly flamboyant guys but not nearly as many as I expected there to be. There are jocks, there are nerdy looking girls and guys, there are people you would have no problem with guessing their sexuality and then there are others you would assume straight. I guess some of them probably are but that's not the point. Or maybe it is.

I'm still looking around, taking everything in, when two older students stand in front of the group and begin addressing them. Trying to remain as low key as possible, as if anyone I knew would be here but whatever, I slip into one of the scatter chairs in the back and observe everything. Taking in details I would never typically notice.

The people running the group, Max and Jessie, are amazing at doing whatever it is they do. I can imagine it would be a little daunting, standing up in front of a group like this, regardless of it's relatively small size, and be so open about yourself, so personal. For a second, I allow myself to picture Brittany standing up there, telling her story and helping others. She must have been perfect for the job and I can understand why she loved it so much. These people aren't even talking directly to me and they're already making me feel more at ease. Brittany must have loved being able to help people like that, especially those in Lima who had a reason to be terrified to come out.

For the hour, I just sit back and watch the others interact. At one point, people are asked to share their stories and I feel my stomach drop. Although they don't single anyone out or randomly choose from the group, the fear of having to get up there overwhelms me and I debate just standing up and walking out. The first volunteer to speak, a smaller guy with a childlike face and a thick accent that almost makes him hard to understand, speaks about how hard it was living in a small town in Texas and being gay. About all of the things he had to go through to get to the point the is at now, a place where he is comfortable with who he is. His story hits a little too close to home for comfort but as the meeting continues and I listen to all of these people speak so proudly, so openly, about themselves, and I can't help but feel a bit better about myself.

Personally, I know it's hard to accept yourself and find the courage to tell others, I had to deal with it first hand. It never really seemed like something I should be proud of though. But sitting here, listening to similar stories from a different perspective, I know I've accomplished something. Everyone in here has that in common, even having the courage to show up today shows a lot about how much we've overcome.

As I continue to listen, I manage to learn a lot. It actually makes me feel a lot less lonely than I've been feeling lately, knowing that I'm not alone despite how it may feel sometimes. Besides Brittany, Kurt, and Rachel's fathers, I've never met another openly gay person before and being in a room full of them makes me feel a little more normal, I guess, if you want to use that word.

Personally, I've grown to hate it.

Brittany taught me that the entire notion of something being 'normal' is entirely subjective, each person perceives different things as normal, so to try and be normal would be a waste of time because you will never please everyone.

I like the way she thinks.

"Hi guys, my name's Sara and I'm here for my friend Amanda," one girls greets, standing up to face the group. "A few days ago, Amanda came to me, saying she had to tell me something about her and I was certain she was pregnant, but it was kind of the opposite," she says, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

"She told me that she was a lesbian and that she had known for a long time but had never found the courage to actually tell me, or really anyone else she was close with. She explained how she'd been coming here for a few months now and that you wonderful people helped her find that strength she needed to finally come out, so I wanted to come here and thank you personally for that, for taking care of her when I didn't even know what she was going through."

A blonde haired girl jumps up from her chair and engulfs the other girl in a hug. I assume it's Amanda. When she turns to face the group, I notice how beautiful she is, it's hard not to. Her long blonde hair, her fit figure, her long legs. There's only one thing missing, the blue eyes.

I suddenly wish Brittany was here with me so I could hug her like that girl hugged her friend. It's not much, but I feel like this is new territory for me, being around people like this, so open. Fidgeting with my hands in my lap, I admit to myself that it's scary.

For the rest of the meeting, I remain in a love-hate relationship with the thought of Brittany.

…

Soon enough, everyone has finished speaking and there is a small social. Figuring it's a good time for me to slip out, I quickly stand and make my way to the door in the far back. Just as I get to the closet to grab my coat, however, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn to see the blonde girl from earlier, the one whose friend came to support her.

"Hi," she greets confidently.

"Hey," I try to play cool but I'm kind of confused as to what's happening.

"I haven't seen you around here before, I think I would have remembered a face like yours," she flirts with a smirk on her face, and I think to myself that cocky may be a better word to describe her. Regardless, I have no idea how to respond to that.

This girl is flirting with me, a beautiful girl is coming on to me, and I'm standing here with my mouth open like an idiot.

"Uhh, y-yeah," I stutter, "this is my first time."

"Well I'm glad we could help pop your cherry," she says almost seductively, her eyes scanning over my body. Seriously? How was there any way her friend didn't know she was into chicks.

I'm still not entirely sure what to say so I just awkwardly nod my head and turn to leave the room. Flirting with another girl or, I guess, letting another girl flirt with me is probably the worst approach to making things better with my girlfriend.

"Wait," the girl calls.

Reluctantly, I turn around but the air of confidence that surrounded her before has seemed to disappear and she looks almost embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I know I come off kind of strong. Guys usually like that. This whole girl thing is fairly new to me, or well at least acting on it."

"Yeah, tell me about it," I agree, nodding my head in understanding.

"Would you like to grab a coffee or something?" she asks shyly, still lacking the confidence from a few minutes prior. I feel my body immediately tense at her words. She must sense this and quickly waves her hand, "I don't mean like on a date, just as friends. You're new here so I figure you could use a person to talk to."

I feel the urge to tell her I already have a person but then I realize I don't know if I do anymore. Regardless, Brittany isn't the same as having a friend I can talk to. Especially when all of my problems at the moment seem to surround the girl.

"Yeah," I agree with a smile and her face lights up, "that would be nice. My name's Santana."

"Amanda," she replies with a nod.

…

It turns out getting coffee is actually a good idea. We just end up talking about random crap for the better part of an hour and I learn a lot about Amanda. Turns out she's a junior who is studying to become some type of hotshot business woman or something. I could totally see her rocking the power suit. For the most part, she manages to keep me distracted from my thoughts and that's all I really need right now.

Amanda isn't at all like the girl who came up to me, although she kind of is at the same time. She's sarcastic and a little bitchy, even gives me a run for my money, but there is more to her than she lets other people see. I can sense it.

She reminds me a little of me which I would typically find intimidating but, for some unknown reason, I don't.

"There's a party next weekend, the group is putting it off. You should come, get to know a few of the people from the meeting today. It's nothing big but it should be fun and you can take some friends if you want," Amanda offers and my stomach does this annoying thing where I feel like I want to throw up.

"I don't think so," I mumble, slouching back in my chair.

Truthfully, I like Amanda. Considering my extremely picky choice in people, matched with my bitchiness, it hasn't exactly been the easiest task for me to find new friends out here and it would be nice to have someone around besides Brittany and Rachel. That being said, going to a party with all of those people would be a lot different than simply sitting in on a meeting. It's much less formal and a whole lot more intimidating.

"Why not? It should be fun. You seem like the partying type to me," she smiles, raising her cup to her lips.

"Not so much anymore," I admit, not meaning to actually voice the words. "There were enough parties in high school to last me a lifetime."

She peers over the lip of her cup, eyes narrowing in on me as though she's trying to figure me out. When she lays the cup down, a full on smirk is plastered on her face and it makes me shift uncomfortably in my chair. She's looking at me as though she knows something I don't.

"So you were that girl in high school. Let me guess, cheerleader?" She makes it sound like a bad thing but I just nod. "Damn, I bet you had girls crawling over you. Consider me jealous," she laughs but I can't bring myself to even smile back at her.

I don't want to think about this right now. This was supposed to be fun, coffee with a friend. I'm so pathetic, I can't even go one afternoon without getting upset over the thought of Brittany. She hasn't even come up in conversation but she's always there in the back of my mind.

"Who is she?" she asks, "the girl who has you so down."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," I snap, shooting her a death glare across the table.

"Whoa, okay. That bad, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up," I say sternly.

A few heads turn to look at us but I don't care about them. I've known this girl for like an hour, who does she think she is saying things like this? I make a move to grab my things but she grabs my hand to stop me. I flinch at her touch, as though it burns me, and she quickly lets go.

"Fine, you don't want to talk about it. Believe me, I get it," she explains in a nicer tone, trying to calm me down, but I still want to punch her in the face a little bit. "I know we don't really know each other but I think we work well together. We're both bitchy and self-obsessed, I think we can help keep each other grounded."

It kills me to admit it but she's right. Although she let me get away with this little stunt, I have a feeling that's not something she would typically do, and maybe someone like her is exactly what I need. Also, I'm not exactly in a place to be turning away an offer of friendship.

"Yeah, whatever. I should get going though," I mumble, standing to pull my jacket over my shoulders.

Amanda stands as well and she starts making her way out of the small café behind me. It's so close to school that I'm surprised I haven't stumbled upon it before but now that I know it's here, it will probably be a new hangout of mine. Especially if I don't start make progress with Brittany anytime soon.

"Do you want me to walk you back to your apartment?" Amanda offers once we get outside.

"You don't even know where I live," I tell her, letting out a lighthearted chuckle at how ridiculous she's being.

"Do you want me to walk home with you or not?"

It's only about a 10 minute walk but it would be nice to have someone to walk with for once so I start walking in the direction of my building, gesturing for her to follow.

"So have you given anymore thought to the party? It's not going to be a full fledged thing, it'll probably end up with us just drinking and watching some movies. A small gathering more than anything."

"I don't know, maybe." I bury my hands in my coat pocket, my eyes glued to the ground in front of me.

"Who knows, maybe you'll meet someone to help you get over this girl you're so hung up on." I shoot her a look. "Too soon?"

"I'm not hung up on anyone," I tell her, letting her know this isn't a topic up for discussion. "She's still my girlfriend."

Surprisingly, that's enough to shut Amanda up for a good few minutes which I'm glad for. We walk next to each other, the cool air filling out lungs and the snow crunching loudly beneath our feet. Neither of us say a word though.

Then she reaches her hand into my back pocket and I'm even more confused then I was when she wasn't saying anything.

"Hey-"

"Calm down, I just wanted to put my number in here. I wasn't trying to cop a feel or anything."

I feel my cheeks warm at her words and she notices but makes on she doesn't. Instead, she just subtly slides my phone back into my pocket once she has finished and we continue our walk in a comfortable silence.

"This is my stop," I turn to face her once we arrive at my building. "Thanks for today, I guess. It's like the first time I've done anything besides schoolwork in like a week. I was turning into a muggle version of fucking Hermione."

"Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?" Amanda asks with what I'm beginning to think is her classical smirk and I blush harder than I had earlier, only just noticing my slip up.

"Brittany," I explain, "my girlfriend, she really likes the movies. A few weekends ago we spent days watching them all, they're kind of permanently burned into my head."

It's not a lie, per say. We did marathon all eight movies last month and I can recite most of them word for word. I just conveniently left out the part about me obsessing over the books when I was 7 and going to every midnight viewing since with my mom and Quinn. That shit's embarrassing.

"Awesome, Hermione's kind of hot."

She flirting again and thank god for Brittany because if it wasn't for her, I would have absolutely no excuse not to be flirting back.

"Well I should be going. You have my number so make sure you text me about the party," she says with a knowing smile, "and I now know where you live now so, if you don't, expect me to haul your ass out the door."

She winks before turning on her heels and walking back in the direction we came from. I don't know why but I stay outside, watching her as she walks away. Maybe I'm waiting for her to turn back around. Maybe I'm waiting to find the courage to call her back and agree to go to the party.

Whatever it is that I'm waiting for never happens and once Amanda's finally out of sight I let out a shaky breath and make my way into the building.

…

I'm still in the living room, not long home from coffee with Amanda, when I hear the familiar rattling of keys in the door. I don't know why, but Brittany and I never really established any type of knocking system in the apartment. Maybe it was due to our rocky start or busy schedules, but neither of us ever knock to save the hassle of having to search for our keys.

Right now, I really wish we knocked. It would give me some excuse to go get the door, an excuse to see her. Every time she walks through that door I wonder if this is the day she's going to ignore me completely. She has my head all confused like that.

"Hey," Brittany greets as she makes her way into the apartment and I let out a sigh of relief.

_Today isn't that day._

"How was work?" I ask, noticing her uniform.

I hate that I don't know her schedule by heart anymore. Her shift are at completely different times than they used to be and they seem a lot more frequent. She has also stopped posting her schedule on the fridge, something she started the very first week she had the job.

"Alright," she answers, which is a complete non-Brittany answer to a question considering how enthused she gets over the smallest of things.

I don't let that deter me though.

"I have a proposition for you," I tell her, standing to follow her into her room. "A party."

Throwing herself down on the mattress, she looks up at me with wide eyes and I can tell she has a million questions. The first probably being who did I have to beat up for them to invite me to their party.

"I actually, I went to this pride group meeting at school," I answer for her. Everywhere but her face is where my eyes seem to look but I really don't want to see her expression right now. "This girl, her name's Amanda, she invited me to coffee and she's really cool. She asked if I wanted to go to this party the group is throwing."

Focusing back on her face once I've finished, I find myself completely unable to read her expression. It just makes me realize how far we've drifted. Mentioning Amanda wasn't exactly necessary, though Brittany would have found out eventually and it probably would have looked a lot worse then. At least by being up front with her, she will know that I'm friends with another lesbian but it won't seem as though I'm hiding anything. Not that Brittany is the jealous type, I just have to be extra cautious right now.

"I'm happy you're making friends, San," Brittany responds, the use of my nickname not lost on me. "More people deserve to witness your awesomeness."

That's more of a Brittany thing to say and it takes a lot for me not to jump on top of her and plant a kiss on those perfect lips. Though it's only a glimpse, this is the woman I fell in love with. The one who swept me off of my feet and changed my life completely.

"So is that a yes?" I ask hopefully, pressing all of my weight on the tips of my toes.

Then her face shifts and the moment is suddenly lost. Brittany hoists herself up on her elbows, chin raised so she can look at me. I have a feeling I know what the answer is going to be before she even opens her mouth to speak.

"I don't know," she responds, shaking her head back and fourth. I'm pretty sure I studied something for psychology about body gestures meaning more than the actual spoken words. Does that make it a definite no? "These are your friends, don't you think you should spend some time with them? I'm sure you don't want me tagging along."

"Why wouldn't I want my gorgeous girlfriend by my side?" I asks with a warm smile, trying to be a little bit playful. "I'd really love for you to be there with me."

She nods her head.

_Wait, does that mean she's going now? I really need to reread some of those notes._

"Let me know when it is and I'll let you know," she replies and, even though it's not a real answer, it's better than I was expecting.

"Awesome," I smile, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the head. "I have a class to get to but I shouldn't be too late. If you want me to pick up some food just let me know."

...

Before Brittany came home, I was completely confused about everything. My mind, my body, my emotions. Everything about Brittany was sending mixed signals and I had no idea how to interpret them. Now, after speaking with her, I'm still just as confused as before. I don't know what's the matter, or how to fix it, but there is a sliver of hope. Hope that this is all going to work out, that this is just a slight bump in the road and, with both of us working together, a resolution is possible.

I catch myself humming on my way to campus.


End file.
